A Twist of Fate
by CrazySparkles
Summary: Flight Angel is a thoroughbred racing champion, but when something drasticly changes in her life, can she still be a champion at heart? Rated for language and suggestive scenes later on. Please RR!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: "Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron" is owned exclusively by DreamWorks pictures and all affiliated organizations who helped develop the idea and film. I do not own any of the characters in that movie, but the ones you see featured in this story I do. They can be replicated with my permission, and believe me I wouldn't mind at all if you asked. I really enjoy constructive criticism, and compliments, so don't hesitate if you have something to say! And now I give you, A Twist of Fate.

**A Twist of Fate**

It was once again time for another early morning workout. A short, plump man led Flight Angel out of her roomy box stall, and into the aisle to be groomed. The sound of hooves thudding on the dirt floor was constant, for there were always horses being led from stalls to workouts, or stalls to pastures, or returning to stalls from workouts. Sunstar Stables was the racing complex that was home to many Thoroughbreds of all colors, speeds, genders, and personalities. Each specially trained by dozens of racing specialists selectively hired by the barn manager, John Thomas. He was a tall, elegant man with broad shoulders, gentle hands and a dazzling smile. He knew each of his horses by name, color, and ability, and was a master of the racing world.

The groom stroked Flight Angel's muzzle with his soft, feather-light hands. She nickered softly and shoved her nose in his chest pocket. "Sorry there Angel, no oats today," he apologized. The steel clips on the crossties were latched to her purple halter, and the light sheet she had worn overnight was lightly lifted off. "Looks like the first thing you did this morning was take a good roll in your shavings," he chuckled as he shook the wood chips from her blanket.

The currycomb circled swiftly upon her Palomino coat, her groom humming softly a tune from the country radio. She rested her back leg and sighed deeply. Her sky blue eyes watched him curiously as he combed out her long white mane and tail. He patted her silky rump as he walked behind her. Each of her white-socked feet was lifted one by one to be cleaned of packed mud, manure, and shavings. He now whistled through his pursed lips as he set the red saddle blanket upon her back. The light saddle was placed upon that, and the girth fastened tightly around her barrel. The cold piece of steel, the bit, was placed in her mouth as the soft, leather bridal strap was placed behind her ears. He pulled her forelock out from under the browband, and untangled it as he smoothed it over the star on her forehead. Flight Angel tossed her head eagerly, she wanted to go.

The short, gangly workout boy grasped the textured reins from her groom. "You combed her tail I see," he observed. "She will look heavenly on the track."

"Yeah, I got out every tangle. Don't work her to hard today Joe, she hasn't been eating well. I think she misses Canyoubelieveit, since he was sold off to that English horse breeder," he explained as he stroked her arched neck.

"I noticed she hasn't been performing like she usually does, but maybe with that new colt moving in next to her, she will get back to her usual," Joe replied casually. "Thanks for saddling her and grooming her for me, I pulled in a bit late today."

"No problem Joe. I suppose you want me to groom her when she returns?"

"Yes, you suppose right." Joe clucked and pulled on the reins as he stepped foreword. She clopped after him gazing at the horses in their stalls eating clumps of newly bought alfalfa. She turned around to look at her stall, which was on the end of the row. The stall across the aisle had a familiar chestnut head sticking out of the door. Flight Angel called to her and she answered, dropping the hay she had been chewing. Star Gazer was her name, and she was an Appaloosa, Quarter Horse mix; specially trained to lead racers to the gates at a track. The horse next to her was a stunning chocolate filly called Morning Star, for she was born in a field under the first morning light. The stall directly next to hers was empty, reminding her of the emptiness she felt in the place of Canyoubelieveit.

She pulled her head back around to look on the horses on either side of her. The one on the left of her was a liver chestnut known as The Phoenix by many racing fans. Phoenix was a legend at Sunstar Stables, and just about everywhere else. Phoenix and Flight Angel would travel to races together, and be stabled next to each other at the track. After this racing season, he was being moved up to the stallion barn; Flight Angel would miss him. To the opposite side was a short, speedy racer known as Crazy For Cocoa. She was light brown, with a silky mane and tail. She had four white socks, a stripe attached to a snip, and a high, sweet whinnie. She passed a grey called Greyhound, two more chestnuts, Diamond and Crystal, and a roan named Hot Emergency. Up ahead the aisle was blocked by a chestnut being groomed. One crosstie was unlatched and he was pushed to the side so she could pass.

"Look at the princess, all groomed and proper for her morning workout," the stallion snickered.

"I think I hear a hint of jealousy in your voice," she teased.

"Jealous of you?" he stifled a laugh. "You're kidding yourself Angel."

"We'll see Rusty. After I beat your behind a few times I think you'll change your mind."

"Hey, as long as I'm a close second watching that fine ass…" Flight Angel shook her head and smirked at his audacity as she stepped outside.

The sunlight blinded her sensitive eyes as she stepped outside into the cool spring air. She shivered as the air hit her lungs and she pranced as her excitement mounted. The three year old starting race was in two weeks, and she was entered in it. And the fact that there was a new colt in the area made her legs tense and dance. Was he going to be anything like the fiery spirited, high-strung Canyoubelieveit? She tossed her head and lashed out with her back leg for pure enjoyment. Joe looked back at her cautiously.

She snorted and swished her tail at the flies that were landing upon her glossy golden coat. "Your ready to go today ain't ya girl?" Joe asked softly as he reached behind her ears to scratch them.

As they neared the track, the horses galloping around it became more focused and recognizable. Flight Angel saw Soldier Under Fire galloping around the track, and Out Of Nowhere coming up behind. The sorrel mare, Sunfire, was slowly trotting off the track with an uncoordinated jockey bouncing up and down with her stride. Flight Angel admired her for she had trained so many young jockeys into derby winners; (she was a schooling horse, for people that is). A chestnut gelding broke into a rocky canter as he warmed his muscles up for his morning workout. She had never met him before and didn't know his name. Was he the new horse? No, he couldn't be, could he? She whinnied to him, but he didn't reply.

Angel scanned over the horses on the track again. Her eyes fell upon a black, handsome stallion that was cantering effortlessly down the back stretch. She stopped for a moment and admired him as he rocked, so flowing, so beautiful. "Angel, c'mon girl lets go. That blasted stallion probably had his morning workout already," Joe urged. She hastily surged foreword, her hind quarters swinging out to the side.

By the time they reached the gate, she had become lathery and sweaty without even breaking into a trot. The gentleman with the stopwatch in his hand looked at her with raised eyebrows, but didn't mention anything to her handler. Her blue eyed gaze was still upon the stud as he passed by her on the home stretch. She heard his choppy snorting sort of breath, and felt the wind that flew behind him as he passed. Her nostrils fluttered and she dug her hooves into the soft dirt track. It was perfect today, a fast track.

She felt the lightness of Joe as he climbed in the saddle and the soft pressure from his legs urging her foreword onto the track. She broke into a swift trot, and it took him a while to pull her back to a jog. Flight Angel flicked her long cream tail with annoyance. Why wasn't she able to run? Her feather light steps hardly lifted the dirt on the track, and her heart was sailing in the clouds; as was her head. The stirrups clicked at her sides, and the morning birds sang there greeting songs from the oak trees outlining the farthest end of the track. What a brilliant morning. She finally was given her head, and was allowed to canter.

They had finished their warm-up and were waiting at the gate for the new horse to finish his. Flight Angel couldn't understand why he had a longer warm-up than her, but didn't think of it very long for he appeared. His black coat seemed to be darker than the night sky on a moonless and starless night. His eyes were the color of soft, new leather with pieces of gold reaching out from the middle. Not one speck of white was on his entire body, except for a few white strands on the circle where his neck met his body. He was conformation wise, a beautiful horse. She whinnied and he answered in a deep, stallions greeting.

"What do you think eh Angel? A beauty or what?" Joe asked excitedly from the light racing saddle upon her back. She snorted a reply.

"Get her up there Joe, we know there a pretty pair but let's see them run!" Mr. Thomas exclaimed from his position near the man with the stopwatch. Flight Angel and the handsome black were lined up next to each other in front of the gate; Flight Angel on the inside, the black on the outside. "One time around boys!" he paused.

"GO!"

Both of them were kicked into a mad gallop in unison. Flight Angel out in front, and the black a head behind. There hoof beats thundered together and the dust they kicked up trailed behind them for yards. Flight Angel could feel her heart beating against her wide chest, and her lungs madly collecting oxygen to pump to her muscles. Yellow foam from her open mouth flecked her neck and Joe's t-shirt. The black stallion pulled ahead of her, his massive strides lengthening the gap between them. She wanted to know his name more than anything, but didn't make a sound. She wanted to watch him run, to race against time.

"Easy there girl, wait for the back stretch," Joe steadied as he pulled her back. She obeyed him, reluctantly settling in behind his ebony body. His flaming black tail whipped her in the face. She snorted as Joe patted her neck.

They rounded the corner onto the backstretch. The rail flashed by like an everlasting white snake. The soft turf was kicked into her face from his blurred hooves and legs, but by now, her life as a racer had made her accustomed to that. Joe moved her back on the outside so she could get in front of him. The stallion was trying to keep ahead, but by now he was spent. She pulled ahead just before the turn that would eventually lead to the home stretch.

The end of the race had come too soon for Flight Angel. She loved to run and feel the harsh breeze in her face and let the wind comb her mane. The black was breathing hard, even after the saddle was off him. Was he not trained properly? It wouldn't have mattered, she had let him win. She didn't know why but she just did. Angel wondered if he knew, and figured eventually that he probably did. After passing him near the 3/4 pole, he probably knew he had been beat there.

Flight Angel was turned out in her pasture alone after her outstanding workout. She was grateful to be out of the noisy barn and not listening to the annoying gossip that went around.

"Did you hear about the new colt?"

"Why yes, he beat Angel this morning didn't he?"

"Did anyone see him yet?"

"I caught a glimpse of him earlier, handsome fellow, black as midnight."

She sighed softly; blowing a butterfly off a daisy in front of her. She watched it flutter and waver until it settled again on a nearby bush. Angel dipped her head into the lush bluegrass and took up a mouthful. It tasted wonderful, regenerating her strength. Oh how she wished to have some carrots. She was drawn away from her thoughts when she heard a flowing, tenor voice behind her.

"Nice race today."

She curiously walked over to him, replying softly, "Yes indeed. I haven't run that hard in a long time." His eyes became distant, somewhat longing.

"That is nice to hear, it makes me feel important in a way."

She smiled. "Well I should hope so. No one has beaten me on my home turf before."

He raised an eyebrow and then turned his head. "You let me win."

"Never," she said taken aback. "You can ask anyone." He rested his black head on the top rail of the white fence that separated them.

"Still, I'm not sure I quite believe you," he replied plainly. She raised her eyebrow and tilted her head slightly.

"Fine then, we shall see tomorrow when we exercise."

"I'm racing you again?" he asked, surprised.

"Not racing, warming up. But yeah," she smiled.

"Oh," he sighed. "What is your name? Angel is it?" He inquired trying to change the conversation.

"Flight Angel, but everyone calls me Angel," she smiled. "And yours?"

"Blackbird's Wing, but plain Blackbird will do just fine," he replied softly. She turned her head away and was going to say something when she heard a whistle. Both heads turned towards the sound. It was Joe waiting at the gate. Flight Angel whinnied and picked up a trot towards him. Blackbird hesitated for a moment then followed. "Hey Angel wait up!" he called after her.

"Hey girl," Joe greeted softly as he scratched behind her ears. She whickered and pushed her head into his chest. "Cut it out," he laughed. "Looks like you made a friend eh?" Joe reached out his other hand and rubbed it up and down Blackbird's nose. "What a pair you two make. I wonder if he's as goofy as you," he said as he pushed her head away. She quickly brought her head back to where it was and pushed it into his pocket. "Oh carrots is it?" He pulled an orange carrot out of his pocket and broke it in half. "Here ya go." She chewed it loudly, half of it sticking out of her mouth. Blackbird nudged him; he wanted a carrot, too. "Alright okay, you can have the other half."

"Joe! We need you to work Luckyboy out on the track. C'mon hurry up!" an old groom shouted from the barn entrance.

"Well I will see you both later," he sighed as he trudged over to the track with a final pat.

Angel watched him for a few moments, whinnying a goodbye.

"Nice man isn't he?" Flight Angel sighed as she turned her head back around to look at Blackbird. Her blue eyes searched his face.

"Yes, very nice. Does he always ride you for workouts?"

"Yeah most of the time, unless John wants to ride me. He's our owner," she answered as she saw the look of confusion on his face. "You'll get to meet him soon."

"Is he nice?"

"Yes, why wouldn't he be? He's the greatest horseman in Kentucky," she replied proudly. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason, just curious."

For the next few hours they grazed on the lush grass that grew in the pastures. No more words were spoken between them, only a beautiful silence that swept away the afternoon. The setting sun gleamed off Flight Angel's coat, and made a beautiful silhouette out of Blackbird, making her heart flutter. The first star was shining overhead by the time Joe led her back into the barn. Angel took a long, cool drink out of her water bucket before she answered any of Morning Star's excited questions.

"Well, how was the run? How does he look? Did you spend _all_ afternoon with him?" Morning Star rambled quickly.

"The run was good, he's all black, yeah I spent _all _afternoon with him," she replied quietly.

"Well where is he?" Star Gazer asked impatiently.

"Joe just went to get him calm down, calm down."

"Is he going to be in the empty stall next to you?"

"I don't know, I believe so." Star Gazer and Morning Star exchanged excited glances. Angel looked at them cautiously. "Guys I know what you're thinking, no."

"Well one of us has to hit it off with him, right?" Morning Star smiled.

"Oh here we go," Flight Angel sighed. She turned around in her stall to munch on the hay that was placed in the back, and waited to hear the light footsteps of Blackbird down the aisle.

"Easy Blackbird easy," Joe soothed as he led him into the spacious racing barn. He was clipped to the crossties near the entrance, quietly watching Joe grab a brush from a tack box. He was curried over and over until his coat shone like satin. It was a soft as a foal's coat, and just as furry. Joe combed all the knots out of his tail and mane, and brushed the grass pieces off his face. "There ya go Blackbird, all handsome and shiny. You'll defiantly catch a filly's eye eh?"

Joe left him stand there as he quickly ran out of the barn to help get a stallion under control. He looked around as he waited, shifting his body weight from one side to the other. There were golden lights strung down from the ceiling by rope cords, giving the place a homey look. There were wisps of hay scattered on the dirt aisle here and there, and bunches clumped around stall doors. There was a chestnut nearby who seemed to have an interest in him, and kept watching him for a long time. "So you're the new one?" he asked gruffly.

Blackbird, startled a bit, answered, "I guess."

"I figured as much, I don't know why everyone is talking about you."

"Everyone is talking about me?" he inquired taken aback.

"Yeah, the fillies and mares mostly. You must consider yourself lucky, a real ladies man huh?"

"No not really, but it's kind of nice to think mares are talking about me," he said timidly.

"Well you just remember I'm top stallion here, and don't forget it," the chestnut growled. Blackbird didn't answer. He shot the chestnut a dirty look before obliging to being led back to his stall.

"Hey Blackbird," Angel greeted. "You look nice."

"Huh, oh yeah thanks," he said dreamily.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing, just something someone said that's all." He looked towards the chestnut down the aisle who was looking fiercely back.

"Who Rusty? Did he give you the "I'm the top stallion'" warning?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"How did you know?"

"Believe me, I know. Don't listen to him, he says that to every new piece of horseflesh that steps foot here. It's a good thing he feels threatened by you," she chuckled as she stuck her head further out of her stall. "Here comes Joe."

Joe reached his hand behind her ears to scratch them. "You ready for your brushing?" He clipped the lead rope to her halter and led her down the aisle to an empty spot, which just happened to be in front of Rusty's stall.

"Oh look, it's the princess herself," Rusty sassed as her left side was latched to a cross-tie.

"Oh look, it's the loser," she snapped.

"Is that so? Well we shall see tomorrow, Angel. I'm being worked with you both," he grinned. "Then we will see who will win."

"Win what?" she growled. "It's not an actual race."

"Well you of course, who else?"

"Me? Win me? I'm not a piece of scrap metal you can win!" she spat.

"I never said you were. But that's all you'll be when your racing career is shattered by my records, and my speed."

"You couldn't win a race if everyone started 100 yards behind you."

"Well you didn't win the race earlier today either. Or was that because you're precious Blackbird was with you, and didn't have the speed to win?"

"He had enough speed; he just hasn't had the proper training."

"Sticking up for him now eh? That won't help him tomorrow, you can't run for him."

"Yeah well I can run with him," she paused. "No one runs with you."

"There are a lot of people who dream of running with me."

"Yeah name one."

"Your little friend Morning Star, didn't she tell you?" he grinned maliciously.

"Tell me what?"

"Well don't you know? We're together."

Angel rolled her eyes. "She would _never_ date scum like you, not even if you were the last stud on earth."

"Oh really now? Why don't you ask her about our first workout together, she seemed to be pretty _into_ that." Flight Angel swerved her hind legs around and kicked at his stall door. She couldn't get her head free to bite him, she was tied to the cross ties. He pulled his head back quickly into his stall where it couldn't be reached.

"What's wrong Rusty? I thought you wanted a piece of this?" she gritted her teeth as she stood still again.

"Not _that_ piece of you," he grumbled.

"Well if you want me you're gonna have to agree to the whole package, that includes these." She lashed out with her back leg and kicked his door again, cracking it slightly. Joe rushed to her head and grasped her halter to control her.

"Easy there, its okay, easy," he soothed. Flight Angel pulled her head out of his hold and kicked the curry brush by her feet towards him. "Alright, might as well. Just as long as you're going to be sensible."

Flight Angel stood still while Joe brushed her golden coat. Rusty decided to ignore her for now, much to her relief. Angel avoided his gaze and tried to keep from lashing out at him; just his presence irritated her anymore. Blackbird had to beat him tomorrow, she was depending on him.

A/N: You're probably wondering, _What on Earth does this have to do with Spirit?_ Well, it isn't called A Twist of Fate for nothing, and I'm not going to spoil it. Mwahaha!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The morning was bright and sunny. Rays poured in through the narrow slits between the boards, making the barn look other-worldly. The horses had already been watered and fed their morning meals consisting of grain and hay. Flight Angel was talking quietly to her friends across the aisle when Joe came whistling. "Good morning ladies," he greeted as he switched glances between Flight Angel, Morning Star, and Star Gazer. Joe opened the door to Blackbird's stall, and approached the stallion happily. "Hey there boy," Joe grinned. "Im gonna be working you today. I can't wait to try you out." Blackbird grunted as he shoved his long nose into Joe's chest. "Learning from Angel already eh Blackbird?" Joe reached into his pocket and grabbed a carrot. He broke it in half and gave a piece to him. Blackbird crunched it loudly, his jaw grinding back and forth under his skin.

Flight Angel tossed her head and pawed at the shavings covering the floor. She whinnied and bit at the latch that held her half-door closed. Joe quickly walked out of Blackbird's stall and into Flight Angel's. "I sense someone is jealous." She laid her ears back and nipped his sleeve. "Okay alright, I know I should have come seen you first," he apologized. He took out the other half of the carrot and gave it to her as a peace offering. She took it hungrily. After she had finished, she lipped his hair playfully. "Well girl," he sighed as he rubbed his hand up and down her nose. "I have to exercise Blackbird now, Carl will be up here to take care of you alright?" She whickered to him as he latched the hinge.. "C'mon Blackbird." Joe led the stallion out of his stall and down the aisle, almost to the end.

"Looks like Joe forgot all about you Angel, seems like Blackbird is the new favorite," Rusty called from his stall.

"At least it's not you!" she taunted, grinning happily at her quick wit.

"Here comes Carl for you," Morning Star informed. "And Bill for me." Two short, lean men were walking down the aisle, quietly talking to each other.

"So is this Flight Angel?" Bill asked as he reached into her stall to pet her golden head.

"It sure is," Carl smiled. "Joe is busy with Blackbird so I get to ride her today." The two fillies were groomed, saddled, and bridled by their exercise boys. Rusty was also being tacked up by his workout rider, Chuck. They were made for each other, they both played dirty. The day was overcast, and a light drizzle fell over the hushed track. Grooms, trainers, and workout riders lined up around the fence to see the workout this morning. Who would win? Flight Angel? She was charming and had enough endurance, but maybe Rusty had more. He was a stallion after all, more muscle and drive to him, but Blackbird also was a stallion. He was really fast, broke the record at Sunbury track, but he tired easily, not much endurance. It would probably come right down to the wire.

Carl patted Flight Angel's twitching neck. She knew something was up. He led her onto the damp track, testing the surface with the sole part of his riding boots. The moist ground would offer some better footing, as long as it didn't rain any harder. Carl was boosted up into the saddle by a track hand, and began to jog his mount around the oval track.

Rusty laid his ears back as Flight Angel cantered past him. Who did she think she was anyway? Walking around like she owned the world. Why didn't she like him? Maybe he was trying to hard, yeah that had to be it. But then there was Blackbird; that mangy, black colt that came out of nowhere and took the fancy of every mare on the farm. Rusty snorted as the stallion came into view ahead of him.

"Hey Morning Star," Flight Angel greeted happily as she pulled up next to her friend. "I heard your also racing with us."

"Oh really? Great. I can't wait to leave ya'll in the dust." She smiled as her jockey pulled her to a walk. Carl did the same with Flight Angel. Rusty was lined up on the wire, Flight Angel beside him, Morning Star beside her, and Blackbird all the way out in the middle. John Thomas strolled out onto the track and walked in front of his four prize horses. They were prancing and tossing their heads impatiently. Flight Angel reached over and nipped at Rusty's face. Mr. Thomas grabbed her bridle.

"Now we will have none of that Angel. And you Rusty, behave yourself. Blackbird," he smiled as he scratched between the stallions ears. "You give it your all like you did yesterday. Morning Star, set the pace my dear." He looked over the colorful bunch one more time, before he took his seat next to the finish line next to the starter. The hum of voices of men around the track hushed as the started raised his hand. The four jockeys stood up in their stirrups.

The starters' hand sliced through the air and they were off. Morning Star took the lead, for she was a sprinter and was expected to set the pace. Her strides came in great bounds as she pulled away from the pack. Her iron legs swept her over the ground, the white rail winding beside her.

As they neared the back stretch, Rusty started gaining on her. His chestnut body inched up and up until he took his place in the lead. But Morning Star didn't give up; she began gaining on him again, like he had on her. When they rounded the final turn, it was Morning Star on the rail, Rusty outside of her, Blackbird ahead but three off the rail, and Flight Angel second; just a nose behind Blackbird. It was anyone's race. In the home stretch, Blackbird surged ahead by three lengths. Flight Angel ate up the distance and won by a nose in the end. Her tail flicking as she leapt past the finish line. Mr. Thomas smiled as he looked at his stopwatch. What a race!

"Hey John, what do you say to that? I think we got ourselves some winners," one of the track hands chuckled as he slapped John Thomas on the back. John Thomas brushed the dust off his breeches as he approached the jockeys flecked with mud, sweat, and foam. The four horses were lead to the cooler by each of their grooms.

"What a breeze!" Flight Angel yelped happily as she was tied to the windmill-like contraption. Rusty was tied behind her, Morning Star behind him, and Blackbird behind her so that they were all walking in the same direction in a circle. Mr. Thomas came to see them a few moments later.

"All my beautiful champions right here in front of me," he beamed. "I want them all turned out today, they deserve it."

"Together?" Joe asked as he adjusted his light racing saddle on his hip.

"Yes, why not? The two fillies aren't in heat so we don't have to worry." He replied as he picked up a hoof pick from a tack box in front of him. He unlatched Morning Star from the cooler, and lifted each one of her tiny hooves and cleaned it. Then she was handed over to Carl who had just finished putting away and cleaning his racing gear. "Put her in the biggest pasture we have, along with the rest of this bunch after they are brushed. I must go for my afternoon ride on Phoenix now, see you all later."

The horses were groomed thoroughly and turned out in the pasture as planned. A few grooms and young exercise boys leaned on the gate to watch them. It was very rare to have mares and stallions turned out together in the same pasture. Morning Star and Flight Angel immediately herded together and began grazing. Rusty and Blackbird stood by themselves at different ends of the enclosure watching the mares intently. Blackbird whinnied and Flight Angel replied, turning her golden head in his direction.

After a few moments, Blackbird called again, but more softly and passionately. Rusty lifted his head from the shrub he was munching on and looked at him irritably. Why was he calling like that? Flight Angel whickered and trotted in his direction; this would be a treat getting so close to him. Morning Star shook her head and smiled at the scene unfolding. Flight Angel stopped in front of him, her head bowing under his. Blackbird snorted. Rusty then interrupted the intimate moment when he decided to neigh and prance around in a challenging manner. Blackbird's ears flicked back then foreword again as he tried to read the message.

Just as Rusty was about to charge, Morning Star cut in front of him, her almond eyes white with fire.

"Let me through Star," he growled as he took a step towards her. She lowered her head.

"You leave them be ya hear? They don't want you with them or they would have invited you," she snapped back. Surprised at her new hostility, he retreated. "Now come with me, let's attempt to tolerate each others company." For a moment he remained undecided, and then grudgingly followed the brown filly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 **

Blackbird had now been at Sunstar Stables for a little more than a week. When he had first arrived his form had been nothing remarkable to look at, but now the muscles under his satin coat rippled with curves and indents; due partially to the increasingly difficult morning workouts. His personality was also beginning to change. Instead of the quiet, submissive individual he was originally, he was now beginning to gain more confidence in himself, and spoke his mind a lot more often.

As he was standing quietly in his pasture, chewing on new shoots of grass, he often found himself staring off at the horses being worked on the track. Did he look like that when he galloped down the homestretch? Did he have the intense focus he witnessed some have? Or was he just another expensively bred fall-out, one never destined to win? He also discovered himself thinking a lot more about what his life had been before Sunstar; the sad thing about was, however, that it wasn't much of a life at all.

Willow Springs was the one stable that no race horse wanted to be, but all his life Blackbird had known no other home. Despite the mistreatment and cruelty that went on there, from the very moment he was born his mother tried to give him the best life possible. She taught him kindness, and hope, and despite how bad everything might seem that eventually it would get better. She walked with a slight limp from an old racing injury, but he remembered fondly that her leg never hurt her enough to say no to a game of tag. The night Blackbird was separated from her was the loneliest and longest night he ever endured.

After being weaned, real training began. He was strictly taught how to behave on a lead shank, how to lift his feet, how to stand for the farrier, and what shoes meant to a domesticated horse. There were no second chances. For the first few moments he wore a saddle, he remembered how much he initially fought it, until it was beat into him that that's there are only two reasons a horse lives: to be ridden, and submit to people. After that "lesson", he never fought again.

Training to run was a painful endeavor. It wasn't a slow and meticulous process like it should have been, but rather hard and fast. If a horse didn't have what it took the first few seconds he was on the track, he didn't have it at all; and would be subjected to discipline. Thus Blackbird was commanded to start workouts at full speed, with no warm up, and was ordered to do so throughout the entire training session. It didn't matter to them if his legs ached when he was put back into his stall right after galloping all morning. It didn't matter to them how hard they beat him for being tired. It didn't even matter to them that he did indeed have some physical boundaries. Nothing mattered to them but money. No horse at Willow Springs was a living breathing animal; it was just a piece of property.

He thought about how his life had been back then, and how drastically it had changed in just this past week. Along with all the physical changes occurring in his favor, he was finally being satisfied emotionally too. For the first time in his life, he had discovered what a treat was, and how to ask for one. He had made friends, and maybe even enemies. He had a personality at last! He was an individual with feelings and talent, not just a husk of flesh to bet on. Not to mention his heart was filling with love for certain, palomino filly. He was happy for the first time in his life.

A deep nicker cut through his thoughts. It was Pheonix, walking up the white fence that separated the two pastures. He smiled as he stopped next to Blackbird, and glanced in the direction that the young colt was looking. "Beautiful isn't she?" Pheonix asked through smiling lips. Blackbird could all but nod, for he couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

Flight Angel was fully extended, galloping purposefully down the back stretch. A man had a stopwatch on her and was smirking from the rail. Her tail streamed behind her like a cloud trying fiercely to catch up with the rising of the sun. Her coat shone with sweat, reflecting ironically the same sun she herself portrayed. He was too far to look into her eyes, but knew from her posture that they were shielded by the glaze of intense concentration.

"Pheonix?" he questioned to the older stud.

"Yes Blackbird?

He paused for a moment, thinking carefully how to phrase exactly what he wanted to say. "I watch her train every morning out there, Angel I mean. I even raced against her the first day I arrived. And in her stall and out in the pasture here, she is playful and carefree. But when she is training or racing on the track, something about her changes. It's like she is in a world of her own, she doesn't play around anymore. When we were going side by side down that home stretch, even though I knew she would never hurt me, the way she looked me down frightened me."

Pheonix chuckled, and also seemed to weigh his words very carefully after the colt had finished. After biding his time by glancing over the horses on the track, he finally replied. "You see Blackbird; she embodies what a racehorse is supposed to be. She has a beautiful and loving personality when she is just being with her friends, but as soon as she steps foot on that track it's all business. She has no concerns, no drifting thoughts, not even friends when she is out there. The bottom line is, it's everything she is. She loves to run, and it goes much deeper than that."

Blackbird's face furrowed as he thought about what the stud had said. "But Pheonix, shouldn't every race horse have a mindset like that?"

"You would think so wouldn't you? But not every racehorse has the proper training to bring out those qualities. That's what makes the difference between a good racehorse and a great one. A good horse has the talent and physical ability, but a great racehorse knows how to harness and use it. Angel is a great racehorse."

Blackbird's mind raced to his own personal training at Willow Springs. If he had been given the proper training, could he of become one of the great horses? Was it too late to heal that old wound?

"How do you know which horse you are?" Blackbird inquired quietly.

Pheonix chuckled. "A time will come where you will know where you fall in that scheme of things. But if I were you, I wouldn't worry so much. You are quite a horse."

"Thank you."

"You remind me much of my young self, Blackbird. I remember asking myself the same questions, but no one could answer for me then. I had to learn on my own, and it was a long road of self discovery. I hope that my advice will take you places beyond where I could even go. But I'm not saying it will be an easy task."

Blackbird sighed. "Someday, I would like to be the kind of horse that you are."

"Well then colt, you're not very far from that now are you? I'll catch you around." He smiled and began to walk off. "And oh, if you ever need anything, I think you know where to go." With a quick wink and the flick of a tail he was cantering across the adjacent pasture, leaving Blackbird alone to think.

A short distance away, another colt was watching the scene unfold. His chesnut coat flicked with annoyance almost like thousands of flies were stinging his pride. Phoenix had never spoken to him, had never offered him any advice. This had to of been Flight Angel's doing. She could bend that older stud to do anything for her, were they not in love at one time? He stomped his foot with conviction. Tommorow, he would show the black colt what he knew about racing, and the little bit he knew that didn't have to do with racing at all. With in an instant he had turned tail from the fence, and his plan was set into motion like the rocking of his cantering body.

A/N: Sorry the chapter is so short, but I'm having a bit of writers block. And plus, not alot is going on in the story right now. Any suggestions would be good though. I really appreciate all the encouragement, thanks much.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you all so much for your ideas, and with them I no longer have writers block! I figured that it was about time for a certain question to be answered, so I hope you enjoy this chapter. Before reading Chapter 4 however, if you already read Chapter 3, go and read the last paragraph of that first. I had to add something to it in order to make the next few chapters work for the story. Thanks again for your support, and reviews. And if you have another idea for me, send it my way, who knows how it might help me!

**Chapter 4**

All the horses had been gently tucked into their stalls for the night with a generous dinner of grain and alfalfa. The evening was warm so the massive stable doors were left open to allow a breeze to filter through. A strip of moonlight crawled silently down the corridor, broken only by the shadows of dozing thoroughbreds. But not everyone was sleeping.

Blackbird stood within the blackness of his stall, wondering to himself if Flight Angel was asleep. Every so often he would poke his head through his door to glance into the darkness of her stall, but every time he would slink back into the shadows, not wanting to disturb her. When finally he heard the rustling of shavings a few minutes later, he spoke.

"Angel?" His voice was barely a whisper.

She replied drowsily, "Hmm?"

"I um, I didn't mean to wake you, but-"

"I wasn't sleeping." After a long pause of awkward silence waiting for him to continue talking, Angel took it upon herself to lead the conversation. "I heard you spoke to Phoenix?"

Blackbird, grateful that she had spoken, replied enthusiastically, "Oh yes! We had a great conversation the other day."

Angel smiled, "What was it about?"

"We talked about the difference between a good racehorse, and a great racehorse. It was very enlightening." After finishing his response he thought to himself, _Why do you have to sound so stupid? Who says enlightening?_

"So I guess he has taken you under his wing then? I knew he was up to something, that Phoenix!" she shook her head.

"Oh I'm not sure about that, we just spoke that's all."

"We'll see, I think he sees something in you." She winked. After another long pause, Blackbird changed the subject.

"I've been watching you a lot lately." After the words had passed his lips, he scolded himself. _Great, just perfect. Now she's going to think that you're some kind of stalker._

With a very interested tone, she replied, "Have you?" Her voice was soft and understanding. _He is trying so hard._ Inwardly, she smiled.

Not sure exactly what to say, he nodded.

"And what have you seen?" she questioned delicately, and then asked herself, _Have I overstepped my boundaries? _There was a moment of uncertainty that she thought surely she had, when he spoke.

"I have seen," Blackbird paused briefly. "What everyone sees."

She shifted her bodyweight from one leg to the other, then without thinking she pressed him further. "And what is that, Blackbird?" Her voice was the texture of velvet.

He smiled, no longer afraid of what he said to her. "The most beautiful and talented filly to ever grace the presence of a stallion." Her eyes softened, and in an instant her head was rubbed affectionately under his chin. He sighed a deep breath of relief, and nuzzled her cheek, his nostrils flaring at the sweet smell of her coat. "It's true Angel. You are like sunshine, my sunshine, you light up my world."

She pressed her cheek up against his, her eyes closing with happiness. "I wouldn't want to be anyone else's Blackbird, and I wont be."

Blackbird's heart swelled with pride and love. Could this be? Was he dreaming? What filly would want his affections, he wasn't even as talented as Rusty. He wasn't even as good looking; although he did have manners. How is it that she had feelings for him? He was stunned, but happy all the same.

She licked his cheek and smiled. "Not that I don't enjoy spending my time with you, Blackbird, but I do believe you and Rusty have some kind of mock race to settle on the track tomorrow morning? Didn't Mr. Thomas want to weigh your improvement?"

He nodded slowly. "Indeed he did. And then the next morning, you will leave me." His voice was heavy with sadness.

She nickered softly. "I will do my business in California, and before you know it I will be home again. And hopefully I will have another title when I return to you."

"No one can beat you Angel, you know that."

She hesitated, "I'm not so sure. I will do the best I can but I hear they have a filly in the west that is also unbeaten."

"I have faith in you."

"And I have faith in you for tomorrow. With everything Phoenix has been teaching you, I have no doubts about the outcome." She smiled, nuzzling his cheek in confidence.

"Thank you." Flight Angel, with a final glance ducked her head once again into the blackness of her stall. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight Blackbird," she swooned.

He smiled, but before retiring to his bed of shavings for the night, he needed to settle one last thing. "Angel?"

"Yes?" she whispered from the darkness.

He twisted his face in uncertainty. "You wont forget me will you?"

In a moment her long face appeared in the doorway again, her eyes softened with understanding. "I can't forget you Blackbird. You're my everything." She nuzzled his face once again with assurance, and then finally turned in for the night. Blackbird, his heart filled with complete happiness, quickly did the same.

A/N: Alright guys, everyone is asking if this story is going to have anything to do with Spirit. Yes! Of course it is, you'll just have to be patient. Actually, I'm thinking that this story might be a prequel to another story. It's risky to say, but we will see. Spirit wont actually be in it, but his ancestors will. If I do decide that this is a prequel, Spirit will have a dramatic effect on the next main character. I dunno guys...we'll see.


	5. Chapter 5

This chapter is dedicated to Sintari-moons, who I think (correct me if I'm wrong because I accidently deleted that message) was the one who gave me the idea for this chapter. I hope you all enjoy it. :)

**

* * *

****Chapter 5**

A soft drizzle fell that morning upon the metal slanted roof covering the whitewashed stable. Birds darted through the rafters overhead; scrambling in and out of doors with insects to feed their squawking chicks. Flight Angel had been sleeping soundly within the din when a low rumble of thunder carried to her ears. Sleepily she lifted her head, surprised to find that the stable outside her stall was already bustling with activity. She poked her head curiously out into the aisle.

_Hmm? I guess they Joe me sleep in? But that doesn't make any sense…_ Her ears swiveled with concentration. _Blackbird and Morning Star are already out to do their workouts. Why aren't I? Why didn't I hear them leaving? Blackbird surely would of woken me up. _At the mere thought of his name, her heart fluttered with the recent memories of the night before. _Blackbird…_

"Hey there girl!" Carl exclaimed. "Glad to see you're finally up."

Flight Angel looked at him with surprise, where the heck had he come from? She pushed her nose into his chest as if to ask, _Why am I still in here?_

Carl smiled as he scratched her star. "Mr. Thomas decided to cut you a break today. He wanted to focus all his attention on Blackbird and Rusty. And plus, you've been working pretty hard, he didn't want to tire you out before your big race and everything," he paused long enough to clip on her halter and lead her into the aisle. "I thought maybe since I didn't have anyone to work this morning, you would like to go for a walk and watch the mock race. What do you think?" With a nicker of approval, a light sheet was placed on her back to protect her from the rain and she was led outside.

* * *

"Easy boy, easy," Chuck soothed to the chestnut gelding as he cantered quickly down the back of the track. 

Rusty was pulling forcefully upon the reins, his head bobbing with annoyance. The only thing he could think about was the black stallion a furlong ahead of him. _Phoenix "sees something in him." We'll see. And her, her! She likes him. He isn't special, he isn't better than me. Hell he came from a shit stable, he doesn't even have a proper pedigree. Well we'll see…we'll see…_

* * *

Blackbird was completely focused on the task at hand, and was also thinking about Phoenix as his muscles warmed to the increasingly fast pace. _What a racehorse is supposed to be, I can be that. Focus now, on nothing but running. No, don't notice the people standing there, running, you're just thinking about running. Lengthen the stride that's it, show them how you can extend yourself._

The breeze left in his wake ruffled the neatly combed hairstyle of Mr. Thomas. John smiled as the black stallion breezed past him, his red nostrils sucking in the precious oxygen needed to fuel his powerful strides. "That stallion is certainly looking more and more like a racehorse every day, David. But then again I'm not surprised, you do work miracles," Mr. Thomas chuckled as he looked fondly at his trainer.

Mr. Jones pulled a stopwatch from out of his pocket, wiping the water droplets from its glass face in the process. "Just doin' my job John, you know that." He raised his wrinkled hand into the air and made a signal with his palm.At that moment Angel came up behind the two men, her ears pricked with interest. "Well would you look who came to join us."

"It's nice of you to join us lady girl," Mr. Thomas beamed as he brought up a hand to stroke the arched neck of his prize filly. "Your boy is out there this morning."

Carl quickly spoke, "I hope you don't mind that I brought her out sir. But I figured she would like to stretch her legs a bit."

"It's no trouble Carl, I was going to go and visit her right after this, but since she is here it's just as good." he winked. "And here they come."

Blackbird and Rusty were trotting side by side, Rusty's tail flicking with annoyance at being so close to the black stud. Blackbird was indifferent, his long face wearing the contours of intense concentration. Angel smiled as she saw this expression. _Maybe Phoenix did make an impression on him. _She thought happily. _I knew he would ._

The two colts lined up next to each other, prancing in place with anticipation. Mr. Jones wiped the surface of his stopwatch once again, then nodded to John to signal that he was ready to start. With a last pat for the filly, John walked out onto the sloppy track as it began to pour. As he was walking, he pulled a small revolver from his overcoat pocket. With a few last instructions to the anxious jockeys, he pointed the firearm into the air and fired.

Blackbird groaned as his hindquarters collected from underneath him, propelling him immediately into the lead. Rusty shied at the explosion and had started a second later, giving him ground to cover in order to catch up. This infuriated him, and he stumbled as his body inched lower and lower to the ground as he increased his speed.

It was almost impossible to compare the running styles of each of them as they galloped side by side around the first turn. Blackbirds strides looked effortless, they surged him foreword with elegance and determination. Rusty however looked panicked and seemed to scramble instead of gallop. He was trying much too hard to cover lost ground, it was costing him much needed stamina for the final sprint.

On the backstretch they were neck and neck, Rusty looking much more at ease but fatigued. Mr. Jones was glancing back and forth from the track to his stopwatch, squinting to see the horses through the downpour. When finally he was able to clock them, he was in complete amazement. They could break a speed record by the time this was finished! Then all of a sudden his heart plummeted into his stomach.

Blackbird had stumbled next to the rail, and instead of continuing galloping onward Rusty had turned full circle and was barreling backwards towards the fallen racer. Joe had toppled out of Blackbird's saddle during the fall into what would have been the infield on a real racetrack, and didn't get up. Chuck struggled with all his power to turn Rusty around , or even bring him to a halt, but the chestnut had grabbed the bit in his teeth and had refused to listen to the commands issued.

Blackbird was on his feet, but bewildered. What had happened? The left side of him burned, and he could feel the blood trickling down his leg. By the time he had realized what was happening it was too late. Rusty had plowed into his dazed body , and had sent him toppling over the white rail. This wasn't enough however, and the black colt was up in an instant and completely enraged.

Mr. Jones and Mr. Thomas were running full speed towards the unconscious body of Joe. They were screaming at the top of their lungs at the two stallions, but their cries went unheard. Rusty and Blackbird met each other mid-air on their hind legs, their blood-curdling screams of hatred echoing off the distant barn. The sound of hooves meeting solid flesh was sickening.

The moment Blackbird had fallen Flight Angel had ripped her lead shank from the horror-stricken groom. She was galloping like she never had before, and had leapt the white rail at full speed. Her heart was pounding with fear as she witnessed the studs pound each other blow after blow, bite after bite. She didn't even realize she was running, she was willing herself to apparate there; and if anyone had clocked her time, they might of believed that she had.

When she had reached the horrific scene, Blackbird was standing over the unconscious body of Rusty. He was pounding the colt again and again with his front hooves., his eyes glazed with loathing and rage. Flight Angel was whinnying to him, pleading for him to stop, tears rolling down her golden cheeks.

"Blackbird stoppit! STOPPIT!" she screamed, and when he did not hear her she reared up, pushing him off the bloody body with sheer force. He turned on her, his ears pressed flat upon his head, and snapped at her face. She backed away still rearing up, her eyes rolling white and her front feet pressed protectively against her stomach. When he realized who he had tried to bite, his eyes unclouded and he stood there baffled at what had just happened. As he watched the rich, crimson blood pool at his feet, the reality of what had just occurred ripped out his heart.

A/N: I don't know guys, what do you think? I really need your honest opinion this time. Oh yeah and by the way Merry Christmas!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: This chapter is kind of short, but it needs to be. Don't worry, the same subject will go on in the next chapter in case I left too many questions unanswered. The shorter the chapter is, the quicker I can update. So please be understanding, the chapters end where they are supposed to. If I tried to drag them out, it would get really tedious and boring because I wouldn't know what to say. Thanks.

**Chapter 6**

Flight Angel had not eaten for days. Every once and a while when her thirst was unbearable, she would sip the cool water from her bucket, but for two days her hay and grain had remained untouched. Mr. Thomas in an effort to boost her spirits moved Phoenix next to her while Blackbird recuperated in the Animal hospital ; but it did little to nothing. He had even scratched her from the race in an attempt to give her time to mentally recover.

Her lack of interest in work outs, eating, and everything had greatly troubled Phoenix. Her lethargic attitude had almost sunk him into a depression himself. He couldn't understand why she was so upset, she hadn't even really been involved. If anyone should have been upset, it should have been Mr. Thomas. His prize jockey had broken his arm, and two of his greatest prospects in horses were both being monitored in a sterile prison. It got to the point where he just couldn't stand it anymore.

"Angel you have to stop this, it isn't helping anyone," he stated matter-of-factly to the golden filly. They were standing at the gate to the pasture, where they had stood motionless for over an hour. "What benefit does it have?" She glanced at him dully, then casually walked away like he hadn't even spoken. Infuriated, he blocked her path. "Look, what happened on the track was not your fault. You couldn't of stopped it, it was bound to happen."

In a dreary tone, she spoke for the first time, "What do you mean it was 'bound to happen'?"

Phoenix sighed and closed his eyes with regret. "There is something that you should probably know about me. It just so happens that same thing also involves Rusty." Her blue eyes searched him. What was he talking about? They had never even spoken to each other as far as she knew.

"Rusty's father was the distance champion, Rustic Emblem. His mother was an old mare by the name of Just in Time. As you can probably interpret, Rusty was given the registered name of Rustic Image in tribute to his father." Angel nodded, her eyes glistening with intrigue. She had never heard the story about Rusty's foal hood and had a feeling that this was where the conversation was going. "Rusty was destined to be a champion, with the finest breeding and best training available, but fate wouldn't have it that way."

"What do you mean?" Angel asked after a long pause. Phoenix was thrilled, she was finally taking an interest in something!

"Rusty's dam died while giving birth to him, leaving him an orphan. He was placed with a surrogate mare a few days later that had lost her foal, but showed no interest in having anything to do with her. From the beginning he was angry at the world for taking his mother, and as you can see, he really never got over it." Angel frowned. She had known about that part of the story and every time she had thought about it, it gave her a sick feeling in her stomach. What would she of done without her mother?

"Because of this, the other foals made fun of him relentlessly. Foals can be so cruel. You know that, you were there." Angel nodded, her frown deepening with sadness. "This is where I come into the fold. It was during one of these pick-on sessions that I decided to try and stick up for him.

There were a bunch of yearlings standing around the young colt, teasing him and prodding him about I don't remember what. But anyway, I walked up in-between them and told them to go mind their own business. I was getting tired of the same old game they were playing every single day with the young ones."

"What happened?" Angel asked hesitantly.

Phoenix looked down. "I'll never forget what he said to me. He told me, 'If I wanted your help I would of asked. Mind your own business!'" He paused, almost unable to continue. "So from that day I never spoke to him again, and you know him, he is too proud to ask for anyone's help. I'm thinking that's why he got so angry at Blackbird. He saw me speaking to him and got jealous."

The only thing Flight Angel could say was, "Oh."

"I think he was also getting jealous of all the attention you we're giving Blackbird. He's been infatuated with you for a very long time."

"I know," she whispered. Her tone was heavy with guilt. "I guess I should of paid more attention to him, or even of gave him more credit."

"No," Pheonix replied, "_I _should of given him more credit."

Flight Angel twisted her face in confusion. "Why should you of done anything? It wasn't your responsibility."

"But it was," Phoenix breathed heavily. "I should of always been there for him. Angel, Rusty is my brother."

A/N: SURPRISE!


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"Your what? _Your brother_? He is _your brother_!" Angel's mind whirled with astonishment. How could this be? "And you never mentioned it?"

"I didn't think it was that important. I mean really, I don't know who your parents are. I didn't think it mattered," Phoenix retorted defensively.

"Not important?" she began to pace in a small circle. "Phoenix you are one of the greatest racehorses alive, you are so talented, but sometimes your lack of common sense amazes me. Brothers? I don't believe this!"

He watched her pace frantically for a few minutes before he spoke again. "Well, as astounding as that might seem to you, it makes no difference. It doesn't matter anymore."

Angel stopped abruptly and looked at him, her eyes flashing with fear. "What do you mean it doesn't matter anymore Phoenix?" She stepped closer to him. "What are you saying?"

Phoenix closed his eyes and lowered his head. In the softest and most compassionate tone he replied, "They put Rusty down late last night Angel. His back legs were broken, and a racehorse can't run without his legs."

"Oh my God." she gasped.

"And plus, when he woke up he bit the veterinary technician. They're thinking that he had some kind of neurological disorder that made him so aggressive, I don't know. I think the vets are saying that just to help Mr. Thomas get through it. He came to me in tears last night and told me everything. The poor man." His voice trembled with sorrow.

Angel stood eerily still, staring down at the individual blades of bluegrass at her feet. A grasshopper jumped from one dandelion to another, and absentmindedly her eyes followed it. He was dead. Rusty was dead, when a few days ago she had watched him gallop down the track, Chuck in the saddle. He was just breathing and eating and making snide comments to her. He was just here. He had even eaten in this pasture, he had played with her when they were foals. Then another thought suddenly struck her. Her voice was weak with uncertainty. "What about Blackbird?"

Phoenix attempted to smile in his grief. "Some of his ribs are broken, and his heart is broken, but he'll be alright. They expect him home sometime next week." Angel let out a breath of air she didn't even realize she had been holding. "And granted that you start eating girl," he continued, "They're racing you on Sunday. They entered you in a race at Wyoming Downs. It seems kind of remote, I know, but that's where Gypsy Caravan is racing, and they want you to face her before the Derby."

"Why would her owner race her there?" Angel couldn't help but asking.

Phoenix chuckled gently. "It's a way to boost her winning ratio. If she goes against nobody, it will show up in her lifetime odds as just a win. I don't believe it shows where she raced just how many wins she had total. I think her owner wants her to go into the Kentucky Derby as the favorite."

Flight Angel nodded. She had always been intrigued by the way owners tried to inflate the actual worth and/or odds of their horses to get the edge. Although if you were a horse, you always knew the difference. Her eyes sparked with life for a moment as she thought about racing her greatest rival, and then dimmed as she remembered the loss of her childhood friend. Phoenix nuzzled her cheek.

"Look Angel, some great things come out of the worst of times. You know about Seabiscuit. It was the worst time in America, it was during the Depression, but he gave all those poor people hope in his struggle. Our situation might not involve a lot of people, but you have to think about those people that it does. Mr. Thomas is up there in the stable, sitting in his office feeling like he is responsible for Rusty. Who knows, maybe we could of changed him, maybe we wouldn't of made a difference, but you can make a difference now. Flight Angel, Mr. Thomas believes in you, you're all he has left now. If you sink yourself into a depression because your boyfriend snapped at you, it'll be over for all of us."

Angel sighed. "Sometimes Phoenix, I hate you because you're right. And I know everything you told me is the truth, but still, he had no reason to snap at me like that."

"Girl, we all make mistakes. And you can't blame him for being angry, look what happened to him before you came running over. You know he is standing there all by himself feeling like a complete ass for hurting you, and Rusty." Phoenix forced a smile, and playfully pushed her with his nose. "Please don't do this. You and I both know Blackbird wouldn't do something like that on purpose."

Angel shook her head with disbelief. He always knew exactly what to say to make things right again. She loved him, and hated him for it at the same time. She playfully smirked, "I'll race you to the end of the pasture and back." And with a satisfied buck she was off.

"Hey, that's not fair!" he called and quickly darted after her

**

* * *

****Meanwhile…. **

Blackbird was painfully standing in the corner of a lifeless, metal stall. His side stung from the antiseptic they had used to clean the dirt and grass from his wounds. His left side was swollen where beneath the skin, three of his ribs were fractured and slowly healing. Each one of the separate instruments used to monitor his pulse and breathing beeped rhythmically, but he didn't hear them.

In his mind he was relieving that foggy, spring morning over and over again. He remembered each blow, each bite, each second like it was an entire lifetime. He had never fought anyone in his life, but could think of no other way to escape the hatred and pain Rusty had repeatedly inflicted upon him that day. He had never seen such rage, and could not think of why he had been the target. The most painful moment of the whole experience however, was the look on Angel's face when she had run up beside him.

He had never seen Flight Angel, his Angel, full of fear before. He had never seen her eyes roll white, or had never even seen her rear up on her hind legs. Everything he had hoped to protect her from, he had inflicted, himself, upon her. This stung him more than the broken ribs and the alcohol cleansing his flesh. The only moment of the despair he could compare to that moment was the night he was separated from his dam. He never saw his mother again, but he was determined to apologize to _her_, even if she hated him and continued to hate him for the rest of her life. He would see her again he swore in his heart, even if she wanted nothing to do with a killer. The only question was, would she let him explain?

* * *

A/N: Wow, I think I've updated almost everyday this week, even if the chapters are short. I hope you guys are enjoying reading it as much as I am writing it! And btw, when are you guys going to update your stories? Oh yes, also, I'm looking for someone to possibly draw my characters. I might draw somewhat okay, but I've tried drawing Spirit-style, and honestly I suck at it. So if you know anyone who enjoys drawing fanart, takes requests, or even if you would like to try it, let me know so we can set something up. Thanks for your support! 


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: It's been so long since I have updated, and I'm sorry. The last two weeks I have been sick with some mysterious virus, and schoolwork has been overwhelming. I actually took the day off from school today to plan this chapter, so I really hope all of you enjoy it. I dedicate this chapter to Horses05 who spoke so highly of my story that I started to write the next chapter immediately!

**Chapter 8**

The mountain air was blew softly that midsummer morning. Droplets of dew, still fresh from the night clung desperately to the blades of grass that had cradled them during the evening, but which offered them no safety from the slowly rising sun. Just as the rays of morning crept down the white-capped mountains, the small valley in accordance sleepily came to life.

Usually at this hour the rural ground were disturbed only by the hooves of anxious horses and their caretakers; but today was different. Even at this early hour spectators were already beginning to file into the grandstand bleachers, holding in their hearts the promise of what was to come. The young, the old, the curious and the doubtful all took their seats next to each other within the colorful splendor of attire. Today was no ordinary day for the small town, for it was the day where the best filly in the country would be unveiled.

From her position within the saddling paddock, Flight Angel could feel the mounting tension of the crowd. Today her heart beat with the purpose of a thoroughbred and her very spirit quivered with anticipation. It had been so long since she had been in such high spirits, but a small part of her heart stung with sadness.

She had never raced before without the confident hand of Joe upon her neck, and now instead of his rightful place in her saddle, a young, inexperienced jockey sat there instead. It wasn't Carl's fault Joe wasn't here for her, but it was hard to accept his presence. What if he fell off, or held her back for too long, or made her catch the lead too early? What if he failed to perform at all under the intense pressure, and just froze in fright? At the sound of the bugle beckoning the horses to the gate, the doubt in her heart was replaced by the cheering of the fans.

Much to the delight of the grandstand, the bay filly, Gypsy Caravan, was first onto the track. Her white-striped face was bobbing upon a heavily muscled neck that attached to her withers at nearly 17 hands above the ground. Her chest was wide, deep, and heavily muscled; much like her hindquarters. Her legs were stout and well defined by black socks that broke up the monotony of her brown coat.

In comparison Flight Angel was petite in size, but well-matched in talent. Instead of having large muscles like her competitor, her frame was sleek and etched with the careful precision of a sprinter. The legs that supported this frame were sturdy, and the hooves that carried her were sound and sure. In addition to her anatomy, her golden coat identified her as unique within the field of bays and chestnuts.

"I can't believe I have the honor of escorting you to the gate," the lead pony beside her whispered. Angel looked at her intensely, momentarily distracted from her concentration. "All the horses around here are hoping that you win today, they have been talking about it all week!"

Flight Angel smiled. "I am truly flattered by that." She paused for a moment as the horse ahead of her balked and reared as he was being loaded. "You can tell them that I said they picked the right horse." With a final look at the small pony bursting with admiration and importance, Flight Angel was loaded, and the gate was shut.

All seven horses jostled within the confines of the chutes. The horse next to Flight Angel kicked and whinnied with fright. Another thoroughbred a ways down reared and plunged in frustration. Jockey's were shouting challenges at one another while at the same time steadying their mounts. In an unexpected instant the bell was ringing, and the gates were flung open.

"And they're off!" the announcer trumpeted through the microphone. "And taking an early lead its number seven, Flight Angel, the darling of Kentucky! Followed closely by number one, Gypsy Caravan! In third place three lengths behind the leaders it's Go for Gold, number four…"

Flight Angel's legs were striking the ground in a blur of succession that carried her twenty feet a stride. When the gate had opened she had been the only one prepared, using this advantage to strike the lead. But even now as her golden body hugged the rail on the first turn, she could feel the breath of the monstrous Gypsy Caravan creeping along her flank. On the back stretch they were neck and neck.

"..They're on the top of the backstretch folks, and it's Gypsy Caravan pulling ahead! Flight Angel's jockey holding her firmly back in second. Go for Gold is still in third place a staggering five lengths behind the leaders…"

"Easy girl, save it for the stretch!" Carl pleaded as he pulled his mount behind the bay filly. Up until now he had stood firmly upon her back, letting her run the race on her own. She tried to fight him, but allowed him to lead her as they rounded the final turn.

Her lungs were sucking up gallons of precious oxygen a second. During the length of each stride her legs pushed and pulled the air in and out at a ferocious pace. Her tail was streaming out behind her like a white banner signaling her importance, and balancing her body as she pulled with her strong forelegs. As Gypsy Caravan inched further ahead, and the last corner was finally reached, Flight Angel knew it was time.

In a store of energy unthinkable of having after such a fast-paced race, Flight Angel exploded. Her legs moved faster and faster until she was beside the big bay. Gypsy Caravan was panicking, Flight Angel could see it in her eyes as they galloped side-by-side, and inwardly she smiled. The huge frame of Gypsy was tiring, and the bulky muscles of the distance runner were at fault.

In a last ditch attempt to keep his horse ahead, Gypsy's jockey swerved his mount swiftly into the golden palomino. Flight Angel's side brushed against the rail, knocking her behind a length. She gasped with pain, and instantly became enraged. Instead of a fair struggle to the end, they had pushed her behind. Angel would not stand for this.

By this time Carl was almost in a state of hysteria. He was whipping the golden filly profusely, and almost willing her to slide up next to the big filly along the rail again. It was a bad decision as far as Flight Angel was concerned, and in a split second she had decided to finish the race on her own. She snapped the bit within her teeth and pulled the reins sharply to the right with a strong shake of her head. This knocked Carl off balance, and almost sent him tumbling off her shoulder. By the time he had recovered a second later, he was astonished by what he saw.

Flight Angel was now challenging the filly from the outside, and gaining on her in a spurt quicker than he had ever seen a horse run. He could feel the filly's heart beating through his legs, a heart he knew had never lost a race. They were a few yards from the finish line, going neck and neck. Gypsy's eyes were rolling white out of fear for the golden lightning eating up the track. Their noses were bobbing at the wire, there were only a few seconds to go.

The entire crowd was screaming as they thundered past the finish line. Not even the announcer was heard through the torrent of shouting voices. As the bulb of the camera flashed upon that fateful moment, only the two rivals knew the outcome…

A/N: The drawing thing is still open for anyone. If you would like to draw a character of mine just tell me which one(s) and I will send you all the info about what they look like. Or if you would like to use them in a story, go ahead! I definitely trust all of you, just as long as you credit me somehow. I did draw a pic of Blackbird and Flight Angel. If you are interested in seeing it, send me a PM!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I dedicate this chapter to Amy. I'm sure most of you don't know her, but she is a good friend of mine, and she is helping me in many ways to become a better horse person. Besides just being a great person, her horse Jubee has touched my heart, and I'm so glad she is letting me be a part of his life, and her life too. Thank you Amy! I hope you are still reading my fic!

**Chapter 9**

At the flash of the bulb, the world of the golden filly seemed to drop into nothingness. No longer did she hear the crowd screaming behind her, or feel her legs burning with effort. No longer did Carl sit in her saddle, or did she taste the metallic finish of the bit. Instead of focusing on the physical chaos that surrounded her, her mind carried her backwards to every event in her life that had led to this moment.

Nearly five years ago it had began with the careful selection of her sire. He mother, Winged Light, had been a renowned Stakes champion all across the country. As a three year old, she had won the California Stakes, one of the greatest honors for a filly. After that she continued to win race after race until Mr. Thomas had reluctantly decided to retire her as a four year old.

Her mother, being the champion she was, could not be bred to any ordinary stallion. Mr. Thomas and his breeding manager had tediously searched the pedigree of every stud operating under the rules of The Jockey Club. They looked at the winning ratio, the overall average of the purses awarded, personality, and offspring of nearly all of them, and still Mr. Thomas was not satisfied. When he was about to give up his quest, he one day haphazardly overheard two of his grooms talking in the tack room.

They were speaking about the Epsom Derby, which had recently been run over in England. Although they had liked the winner, one remarked that, "no horse would never be as good as that Impressive Sky fellow." Working on a hunch, Mr. Thomas had decided to research the elusive Impressive Sky, and what he found shocked him.

Impressive Sky was an ordinary English dapple grey thoroughbred. Overall he had only won one race, the Epsom Derby, but had won it by an astounding ten lengths. This race was against the best in England, and being far from the favorite, this courageous stallion had taken the win. "That horse must have some heart," Mr. Thomas chuckled to himself as he read through numerous accounts of the race. Although his pedigree was nothing from astounding, and he was an unproven sire, Mr. Thomas decided to take the chance and breed him to his filly.

The pregnancy went mostly without any complications for the maiden broodmare. She had enjoyed her days rolling in the pasture with the other mothers-to-be , and having not to worry or put forth the effort that came with racing. Mostly she had spent her time dozing with her companions, but when she was awake, the glow of an expectant mother enveloped her very being. Then one evening, the tranquility came crashing downwards.

That particular night, a fierce thunderstorm had planted itself over the sleepy farm. The broodmares in their pasture, with their tails to the swirling wind, shied and snorted at the quick flashes of approaching lightning. Their eyes rolled as the rain began to pour upon their backs, and an overhead explosion of lightning sent them galloping down the hillside towards the barns. A groom was waiting at the gait in a yellow raincoat waiting for them to come and was shouting above the howling winds for the other grooms to get the broodmares inside.

Winged Light was the farthest away, sheltering herself from the torrent of rain under the protective limbs of an old oak tree. When the other mares bolted towards the barns she too followed their lead, struggling ever harder to catch up to them beneath the weight of her swollen belly. The pasture was slick with mud from the panicked footsteps of her companions, and when she finally reached the gate, the unthinkable happened.

Her legs slipped out from underneath her within eyesight of the whirling mass of bodies, and she fell hard upon her side. With an echoing grunt she landed, her legs tucked protectively around her abdomen, but they provided no support. Her best friend, Morning Star's mother, came rushing to her side, and whickered urgently for her to get up. By the time she struggled to her feet, they were the last two in the pasture, and the grooms were rushing out to get them, flashlights in hand.

That night, labor came prematurely for the young mare. Her light chestnut coat was soaked with sweat, and many times she circled the confines of her stall. The feeling was gut-wrenching; it was worse than anything she had ever endured. Her sides heaved with contractions, and the pain seared through her until finally, it forced her to the ground. At this point the same groom that had led her inside, came running into her stall.

The next few hours seemed full of nothing but agony. She could not remember anything from the experience but the encouraging hand of her groom, and the softness of his voice as she struggled to bring her baby into the world. The wind continued to howl outside the door, and even as her foal took its first breath, the rain continued to pelt the roof.

Much to her delight, it was a little girl. She whickered to the blonde little thing laying beside her, and was surprised to discover the small little bundle had a voice of its own. Instantly she began to nose the little creature, and lick its wet, fuzzy coat. It bleated its annoyance as its mother pushed it around in an effort to dry it, and all Winged Light could do was smile through her tears of happiness.

In the next few months, the filly grew with a vengeance. It seemed her fragile little body was trying to make up for the growth lost due to the early delivery. They had named her Flight Angel, in homage partly to her mother, and the miracle of her survival. Flight Angel had a strong heart that made up for her small size, and although she underwent many hours of therapy in order to cope with her premature condition, her spirit remained untouched.

Mr. Thomas was impressed with the little foal that was born out of his prize mare, but a shadow seemed to follow him wherever he went. What if the filly was too small to race? What if her fragile heart and lungs couldn't cope with the stress of training? What would he do with her then? It seemed that a few days before her two-year old birthday, all of his questions were answered.

The yearlings, which numbered five in total, were prancing around their private pasture. Their mothers, who were now absorbed in their new offspring, were long forgotten, and the independence of being able to do what they liked and when, was enjoyed to the fullest. Daily, they would race each other around the pasture, imitating the thoroughbreds training on the track, until eventually they had worn their own version of a muddy circle along the interior of the fence.

It was during one of these mock races, that the fate of flight Angel was decided. The five of them were trotting around the pasture one sunny morning, their tails held high with pent up energy. All of a sudden, Rusty bolted towards the opposite end of the pasture, and the rest, stirred by his excitement kicked up their heels with the delightful challenge. Flight Angel, who was gently being stroked by Mr. Thomas, was the last to discover the game, and shot off after them with a snort of agitation.

Mr. Thomas's eyes followed his golden filly around the pasture. Starting out from very far behind, Mr. Thomas had expected her to give up and trot off to do her own thing, but that was not the case. With ease she galloped past the stragglers, and with her neck fully extended challenged Rusty at his shoulder. The chestnut, enraged that a filly was challenging him, bit at her shoulder, and shot off around the bend. Flight Angel was not fooled however, and with ears laced tightly upon her neck, she sprinted past him and kicked at his face. Then, with a smug and self-confident expression, she trotted over to Mr. Thomas, her blue eyes gleaming.

With tears in his eyes Mr. Thomas grabbed her halter, and stroked her delicate face with his calloused hands. In a whisper he spoke, "You are so small Angel, but your heart is so big. You at least deserve a chance." And with that Flight Angel was started under saddle with the rest of the two year olds, and thus began her record shattering career.

Flight angel didn't even notice her trek back towards the winners circle. She had noticed nothing but the onslaught of memories that nearly choked her to tears. She was glad Mr. Thomas had given her the chance to show her heart, and this is how she would repay him. She would be the best. She would win the derby, and show them all what a small, golden thoroughbred could do!

Mr. Thomas was there in the circle waiting for her, his green eyes glazed with delight. He took the reins from Carl, and the two, man and horse, looked at each other with deep appreciation. Flight Angel tossed her head as they each stared at their future, their bond broken only by the shout of the crazed announcer. "She has done it! It is official, Flight Angel is the winner!"

The loud burst of cheering from the crowd broke the moment they shared, and brought Flight Angel back into the present. Men and women were swarming around her as they tried to briefly touch the new champion. She looked with fright, but Mr. Thomas steadied her, his one hand grasping the golden trophy. And then suddenly it occurred to her, where was Gypsy?

Through the flashes of cameras and bobbing heads of the fans, Flight Angel spotted her immense chocolate form. She was trotting down the track towards the barns, her jockey's head hung and sullen. Surprisingly, Gypsy Caravan's brown eyes were upon her, and in a shocking display of reverence for the winner, she dropped her muzzle to her chest in a bow. Flight Angel's eyes grew wide with surprise, and then in a hurry, she returned the bow with a brilliant smile. Before Gypsy completely disappeared out of view, Angel saw her wink. And then, in a great display of power, Flight Angel reared up on her hind legs, and resounded a great whinny, daring anyone while she pawed the air, to challenge her.

A/N: It's a little longer than usual, I figured you all would enjoy that? But what did you think did it go too fast? Did I not add enough detail? Do you think I should of explained more about Flight Angel's past? Whatever the case, I'm sorry it took me so long to update. I have been so busy lately! I'm learning how to ride again, and even though I do enjoy writing, I must say right now that is more important to me. I hope you all understand, and review too!


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

It seemed like an eternity before the golden filly was allowed to retire to her stall. All afternoon she had stood in a wreath of flowers under the hot and flashing lights of the news media as Mr. Thomas gently answered question after question. After the news conference she had been thoroughly bathed and scraped by her loving old groom, and walked out in a cooling sheet to the deep praise of his gruff voice. And when the stables came into view, she was surprised to discover exactly how happy she was just to see a stall again.

After greedily indulging in a bucket overflowing with grain and treats, and finally satisfied, Flight Angel decided to have her first look around. Each individual barn consisted of individual stalls lined up next to each other one by one, with an overhanging roof that lined the concrete aisle way. Besides the lavender poles that supported this overhang, the stalls were open to the fresh mountain air, much to her delight. Although the view of the distant mountains was like nothing she had ever seen, it almost overwhelmed her, and she was glad to notice that the comforting sounds of a stable were not lost in its grandeur.

As the shadows lengthened, and the flood of spectators dwindled down to a slow trickle, Flight Angel caught herself thinking more and more about home. How long ago had she left the green trimming of the white-washed barns? Could it of been more than a week? It seemed just like yesterday that she had raced Phoenix down the pasture fence, and that Rusty and Blackbird--her mind instantly swerved from the memory, but it could not overcome her love for the black stallion.

Where was he now? Was he home and licking his wounds in the stall next to her empty one? Or was he suffering still in a clinic? And then the question that she was so afraid to ask herself. Did he miss her? Her eyes glazed as she glanced at the ever deepening sky. The stars were twinkling with more brilliance here in the mountains than she could ever remember back at home, but it wasn't the stars that brought a tear rolling down her cheek. It was the blackness they were nestled in, the blackness that could have been the tousled mane or the shimmering coat of her lover with a little imagination.

"Thinking of someone?" a sweet voice asked quietly from the stall next to hers. Through the shadows, Flight Angel was surprised to discover that it was Gypsy Caravan staring gently at her.

"Gypsy! I had no idea you we're next to me, and I've been here all this time!" she exclaimed in wonder as she carefully masked the trembling in her voice. It was so hard to stay mad at that damned stallion! She cursed under her breath as she bit her lip, every time she blinked she saw his chocolate eyes staring back at her with devotion.

Gypsy Caravan, undaunted by not getting a direct response continued onwards. "I always wondered what it would be like to have someone you know? Someone that cared about you unconditionally."

"Oh Gypsy it's wonderful!" Flight Angel smiled like an old friend. "I can't wait to get back home!" Flight Angel's smile quickly turned into a frown as the bay hung her head with shame.

"Angel," she stated timidly. "I just want you to know, that I didn't mean to shove you into the rail today. I know it wasn't fair, but I was just listening to what my jockey told me to do."

Gypsy bit her lip hard, and Flight Angel's face lit up with understanding. "It's fine really," she grinned, "If I would of listened to my jockey, you would have been standing in the winners circle. Sometimes the two-leggeds just don't understand."

"Yes but still, it wasn't right. You should have had a fair race."

Flight Angel snorted. "A fair race? Who cares Gypsy! I had the race of a lifetime today, I've never had to push myself so hard! You certainly gave me a run for my money!"

The bay's face flickered with a smile. "You think so?"

Flight Angel reared up and struck the air with glee. "Of course! I have a feeling that if the race was a longer one, you would have left me in the dust. You're one of the best distance runners I have ever seen! You should give yourself more credit, no one has ever finished such a close second to me, ever."

Gypsy Caravan was content for a few moments to revel in the praise. No one had ever given her the respect Flight Angel was giving her, it didn't even feel like anyone cared about her. She had been switched from owner to owner almost thirteen times over the past three years. No one came after the race to scratch her face if she won or lost, no one spoke to her as they quickly groomed her coat. In fact, had anyone ever had a word of gratitude to say to her? She was after all, the next best filly in the country.

"So this 'someone' you have back at home, what is he like Angel?" Gypsy questioned in the silence. She was so happy someone was speaking to her; she didn't want it to end. Flight Angel paused before she spoke, and her words were carefully chosen and weighted with affection.

"He isn't like anything I have ever seen. I mean over the years, there have been many stallions after me, I figured I had seen it all, but I was wrong. He's so caring and loving, and he's never…well only once did he ever show aggression towards me," she added with a darkened tone, then smiled. "I wouldn't want to be with anyone else, and I hope I never have to be."

Gypsy nodded with understanding at everything the palomino said, but still felt as though her curiosity had not been fulfilled. "He sounds wonderful! But if you don't mind my asking, is he good-looking?" she added sheepishly.

Flight Angel shot her a knowing smirk. "Very good looking."

Gypsy pressed further, "Like take him out in the pasture for a few minutes good-looking?"

Flight Angel giggled. "Gypsy honestly!"

"Well?"

Flight Angel hesitated, then whispered, "More like a few hours!" At this both fillies broke into a fit of laughter. A few moments later after the giggling had subsided, Flight Angel added in a serious tone, "If you ever see him, you can _never_ tell him I talked about him this way!"

Gypsy pouted. "Oh why not? "

"Because," Flight Angel drawled. "We've never spoken about this!"

"Oh so you mean you have never talked about--

--Yes that's what I mean!" Angel threatened in a harsh whisper.

"Alright fine, I will behave. But just in case I ever do run into him, what exactly does he look like?" she inquired innocently.

Flight Angel narrowed her eyes. "You just want to know what he looks like to get in on the action! I know!"

Gypsy smiled playfully. "Who me? Nah, but c'mon, just tell me."

"Alright," Flight Angel sighed. "Blackbird is black, all black, with light brown eyes and a fleck of white on his chest."

"Oo, I've always been one for the darker boys," Gypsy smirked. "And brown eyes? Damn girl, you can sure pick them!" Flight Angel rolled her eyes.

"You know from looking at you, I never would of expected you to harbor such hormones," Angel teased.

Gypsy snorted. "What is that supposed to mean?"

As the night progressed, their laughter carried through the valley with happy undertones. It seemed like it had been forever since either of them had had a "girl talk" and they weren't about to pass up the opportunity. Sometimes they were stricken so hard with laughter, they found themselves rolling in the straw bedding their stalls; unable to catch their breath. But as each finally gave in to the weariness that plagued their bodies, none could be prepared for the horror that was short to come…

A/N: I am so starting to love cliffies, aren't you? I think I am getting so much better at writing them! -evil grin- But aside from that, you all should begin to notice that the T rating is starting to come into effect. It's only going to get worse in further chapters, so if you don't like horsie love, I suggest you stop reading after the next chapter; cause it's going to get pretty deep. But if you decide you are going to read it anyway, try not to flame me or anything. If you are offended, send me a PM and I will try and straighten it out with you personally. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy, and keep sending me those wonderful reviews!


	11. Chapter 11

Alright guys! Sorry it's been so long since I have written, but lots of things have happened. My grandma died of cancer last month, so for the longest time I wasn't in the mood to write. And then my senior project presentation has been looming over my head, but my partner and I presented it today, I never have to think about it again! )

This really has no relevance, but I thought you guys would be interested in knowing this. Last month a new person came to board her horses at the barn where I work, and coincidently, she has a chestnut thoroughbred named Phoenix. He has one white sock, and a blaze, just like the Phoenix I made up. How freaky is that? And best of all, I might be leasing him, go me! ) So without any further distractions, this is the chapter for why the story was named. Enjoy.

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**Chapter 11**

An eerie fog settled upon the valley that night. It rubbed it's back upon the glistening white railing of the track, and crept silently into the aisle ways and stalls of the sleeping stables. Somewhere, a wolf howled a mournful cry, and in the distance another answered with a bone-chilling yip. Although the feeling of the eve made her sleep uneasy, the golden filly did not wake to these sounds.

Sometime early in the morning, the echo of approaching footsteps fell upon her ears. At first Flight Angel ignored the sound, but the scraping of the heels became so close, she sleepily opened an eye to peer at the stranger. Much to her surprise the silhouette of a man had stopped right at her door, and with a grunt of apprehension, she rose quickly to her feet.

"A little spooky tonight, eh mare?" the mans voice questioned. Flight Angel swiveled an ear, but did not move from the shadows of her stall. He chuckled a bit before plucking a deep-barreled cigar from his pocket, and lighting it with a strike of light in the darkness. He looked ready to speak once more, but a nicker from the adjacent stall startled him, and quickly his attention shifted. "You think I have come with treats for you Gypsy?" His gruff voice tensed, then relaxed. "You did run a fabulous race today I must say, you were in the lead for nearly the entire race." He paused for a moment. "But then you _lost_!" And with a clenched fist he struck the bay filly with immense force upon her muzzle.

Gypsy Caravan reeled, her eyes white and fearful. She fell to her knees with shock, and then broke down in heaving sobs. This was the man that owned her, her master. Couldn't he see that she had tried her best? That no one could beat Flight Angel? She rose shakily to her feet, and gasping with defeat, tried to shrink herself in the corner.

The man laughed heartily, and turned his attention back to Flight Angel, who was snorting with alarm. "It isn't her fault she is a failure you know. I know she tried her best today." With a malicious grin he took another puff from his cigar. Gypsy's ears perked at the compliment, and she struggled hard to suppress her sobs enough to hear. "You see Flight Angel, _you_ are the problem. My horse was unbeatable for a while, until Mr. Thomas got the bright idea to have you chase my filly around the country. And now, not only are you a threat as an opponent as the Kentucky Derby looms, but you are a threat to my income, and my reputation. Usually I am a pretty reasonable guy, but I have no choice this time considering the circumstances. I must get rid of you." And with a flick of his wrist, the cigar dropped into the straw at Flight Angel's hooves.

"Fire is an awful way to die you know, so slow and painful," the hay around the butt began to smoke and crackle. "A shame really, you could of made a wonderful can of dog meat." With a merciless grin he spun on his heel, only to double back to the stall of the bay filly. Quickly he unlatched her stall door, but kept it closed. "I can't take my chances with you," he whispered hastily. "Hopefully you're smart enough to get out while you still can."

Flight Angel's eyes widened with fear as she watched the small puff of fire jump from wisp to wisp. It drew closer to her hooves and legs with ever growing heat, sending spasms of terror throughout her entire body. Soon the walls would catch, and the bare spot of stall she was standing in would become a coffin. She would be burned alive.

Throughout her panicked reasoning, Gypsy had already set to work on the locked door. Her lips and teeth tore at the hinge with ever-increasing urgency as the fire built from a small flickering flame to a raging blaze. Blood poured from the corners of her mouth as she burst into hopeless tears.

"I can't get it, I can't!" she sobbed. "You have to do something Angel, you have to get out!"

By now the other horses had began to wake and sense the danger. Their nervous whinnies added to her distress, and she struggled harder to think clearly. There wasn't much time. And then, she had it.

"I'm kicking the door!" she screamed over the roaring of the blaze. "Get out of the way Gypsy! Help the others!" In an instant Gypsy was off, and Angel was rearing up and striking the door with as much force as she could muster. Her stomach burned at being exposed, and the smoke began to tear at her lungs and eyes.

She coughed as she landed, and spun around to viscously kick again. As her back legs struck once more the wood splintered and the urgency in her movements surged with hope. The fire had nearly reached the ceiling, and had most likely made it's way into the adjacent stalls. The building was beginning to groan as it's structure weakened, sending her into a panicked frenzy.

Just as the doorframe began to collapse, the door split at the hinges and fell into the aisle way filled with embers. Without even thinking she dove into the dark fog, screaming as a flaming board landed upon her rump. She gasped for her first breath of fresh air as Gypsy came running over to her side.

"Angel you have to get out of here, he is coming! He knows you escaped!" Gypsy gasped. Angel looked at her with an exhausted air.

_"_What are you talking about? Who is coming?"

Both of them snapped to attention as a loud explosion fell upon their right side. Almost instantaneously Flight Angel twisted with a ripping pain through her withers. Immediately the blood began to pour from her wound, staining her golden coat with crimson. Quickly she galloped away from the intruder, and Gypsy stepped after her, but then stopped to face her owner. He rested the revolver at his side and smiled.

"She couldn't last more than three days in the wilderness," he chuckled. "And it will be too late by then." Gypsy stood and watched her friend scramble across the rippling buffalo grass. The fire burned behind her, and the screams of those dying in agony echoed against the mountains, but she did not hear them. All she could do was watch the form of her companion slip into the foggy night.

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A/N: I decided I don't like this chapter. I mean obviously I wanted this to happen and I had it planned, I just don't like how I wrote it. What's your input? It would help me a lot! 


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Wow, it's been ages since I updated hasn't it? Since I didn't get a lot of input on helping me with my writers block, I decided that I should probably just write something anyway to see what I could come up with. This is what I got, and honestly I don't like it. (I know, I say that about every chapter but its so true!) But try and enjoy this, and if you do have any suggestions, keep sending them!

**Chapter 12**

The sweat was dripping from her heaving frame by the time she reached the outcrops of the forest. Behind her, the fire blazed and cracked with terrifying intensity destroying every board, and life that happened along it's path. The men were screaming, and darting back and forth from trackside pond to the burning embers in a hurried effort to quench the flames. Horses shied and screeched in fear as they ran halter-less through the blinding black cloud. And even one man, dressed neatly in a night robe appeared through the haze, his form bent and heartbroken. But Flight Angel did not hear him sob and cry out her name for not once did she look back.

The forest enveloped the filly in it's cool, darkened boughs, but offered her no comfort. Branches ripped and scratched at her face as she galloped blindly onward, the small, red trickles of blood mixing with her tears. Her shoulders screamed in agony as she dodged franticly between saplings and trees and struggled to keep her footing. More than anything she wanted to go back, but knew that it was too late.

With a blind leap, Flight Angel cleared a fallen log, but miserably misjudged the landing. In an instant she was tumbling on her stomach, her legs folded beneath her, down a steep embankment toward a rolling stretch of pavement. She screamed in protest, but her lungs were no match for the pull of gravity, and she landed hard upon the blackened stretch of road.

For a few moments she laid upon blacktop as her mind scrambled to collect it's thoughts. Gravel from the landing stung her cheek (which had hit first) and had scratched her shoulder with a painful burn. She was almost unrecognizable as a living creature, and wished that maybe she didn't have to be.

Angel contemplated never lifting her head again. She could die, and the pain would be over, her provoked escape could come to an end. But then as suddenly as she had fallen, a raging siren frightened her to her feet. She stood shaking in her own sticky mess of blood, staring blankly at the blinding lights until they were nearly upon her. A horn, loud and menacing spooked her into a pawing rear, and then with a new wave of adrenaline, she clattered off the roadway and towards the open desert.

It was too emotionally draining to even question how long she had been running. Miles from her fall on the road, her body was completely soaked with blood and sweat. At some point the scenery had changed from lush grassland, to desert prairie, but Flight Angel couldn't even think of when that point was. And much to her surprise she had slowed to a four-beat walk, not unlike the solemn beating of a tired snare drummer.

It struck her fancy to watch her two front legs keep moving foreword with precise rhythm with her mind not even thinking about it. The left forearm would lift upwards, the knee would bend, then the fetlock would flex almost with complete tension, but then the entire leg would extend and fall as the pressure from her body pushed on the interlocking joints. It struck her how strange it was that she had never noticed this before, or even felt the different movements. A three year old, and she never had understood the mechanics of her own legs!

For a few minutes longer she reveled in this, until a faint smell touched her nostrils. It was water. Instantly she snapped her head upwards and pivoted her body in the direction of the scent. It was far, but could she wait? Over the course of her flight, she had never even thought about water, but now the very idea consumed her. She had to find this precious pool.

In moments she was galloping again, towards the scent, towards her only hope for life. Her ears strained for the sound, her entire body yearned to see it flowing over the next hilly outcrop. And when she did find it, glistening under the blanket of a starry sky, she forgot about everything that had brought her to this lonely, desolate place, and plunged her nose deep into the bubbling abyss.

Shortly after drinking her fill, darkness began to envelop the filly. She shook her head in adamant protest, but her body was completely exhausted, and fought her down until she was awkwardly laying on her side. She thought about Blackbird in her last waking moments, and about how much she cared for him. She wondered, when her eyes slowly closed, if he was thinking about her somewhere across the black void. Would she ever see him again?

A/N: Did I mention that I graduated today?


	13. Chapter 13

Sorry it's been so long guys but, this chapter should be worth the wait, as short as it is. Hope you enjoy it!

**Chapter 13**

Lightning split the sky that evening unlike any storm the West had seen for some time. Flash after flash the bolts pelted the sun-choked earth, until the grassland was alight with an unearthly glow. For many years after that night, it was believed the storm was mourning it's murdered counterparts, the drinkers of the wind, and with the damage it caused, and the toll of the dead thoroughbreds, no one argued.

The rain was still not falling when the stallion reached the blazing farm. His eyes rolled white as the weakened embers collapsed the roof, and the scent of burning flesh caught his nostrils. Almost like a field of butterflies, the cinders from the buckled rooftop rose in a fury, and fluttered gently, still glowing, at the Mustang's face. The screams of men and trapped equines blended into an eerie chorus of panic, but still could not match the pain piercing the young stallions heart.

Quickly he turned away, the first raindrops of the coming storm flecking his hardened face. Somewhere deep in the next valley, his mares were safe, for the fire would not spread in the wet grass. His heart ached, but still lightened, as he thought of returning home to them with no threat of danger.

The storm intensified as he picked his way along the springy grassland that was his homeland. The rain cascaded in sheets through his tangled, black mane, and fell to the Earth to join the new rivulets of water fed by the thunderstorm. Lightning seared the sky above him with a loud crack, that sent him galloping into the unforgiving desert.

Even here the incessant downpour etched waterways through the sand. Wildlife asleep for years or even decades emerged with urgency, eager to spawn the next generation in the rare rainfall. The stallion even aided in this process, his deep hoof prints puddling with water nearly moments after he had made them.

With a swift change of direction, the stallion could almost see the boarder of his homeland. A small brook, nestled against an alcove of ragged boarders, marked the outline of his territory against the treacherous wilderness of man. But even as he approached it, he could sense that something was out of place. Something here, did not belong to him.

He climbed the last dune before scrambling hock deep down into the streambed. The water had risen considerably since the last time he had passed, and now was brown and murky with desert sediment. But just as he was about to cross the torrent, a slight movement caught his eye.

Slowly he turned his head to gaze at the object that had made the motion. Thoroughly frightened, his legs tensed with panic, just in case it was necessary to flee. But at a second glance, what he first saw with fear, struck him with confusion.

It was a young mare, laying on her side in the swirling, shallow water. As he approached her, she made no attempt to move, and instantly he knew something was wrong. She was not one of his mares, or even a rouge mare passing through his territory. The smell on her was undeniable, the very scent that struck fear in anything wild, it was the scent of man.

Alarmed, he jolted backwards. His instinct fighting against his compassion for the wounded mare. His ears flicked nervously as he backed away, his mind thinking only of the mares and little ones he had left behind. He had made his mind up, she was far too dangerous to risk taking back.

Just as he was spinning to gallop back towards his secluded herd, the mares eyelids flickered in agony. He stopped mid-stride to gaze back at her, catching again the movement of her eyes in a flash of lightning. She moaned, and went unconscious again, but the stallion found he could not tear his gaze from her this time or even move.

Deep within him, a fleeting memory tore at his heart. A wound so old, yet so unhealable it festered and stung his every muscle, his every fiber. It was undeniable what she had in common with this remembrance, and so powerful was her likeness, he found himself, without thinking, walking towards her. Much to the pain of his broken heart, her eyes were blue.

Slowly, he knelt beside her, his strong and powerful neck arching protectively over her own. She whimpered as he touched her, her lips mumbling what his ears could not discern, but her heart ached to believe. His brown eyes closed as he hugged her close to him in the creek bed, the drops of rain mixing with his forgotten tears.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

That rainy spring night, Flight Angel's heart galloped across the land. No longer did she lay shivering on the cold, rocky bottom of the creek bed, or feel the searing pain of the gunshot wound in her withers, but instead her mind enveloped her sleep, taking her far, far away.

At first, she recognized blurs or color. A racing pad, a jockeys jacket, a flash of white rail, the silver sheen of a frothy bit. Suddenly she realized she was at the track, and instantaneously, the pictures became more vivid. The soft colors of the paint that led her to the gate came into view, and then finally the gate itself, glowing green in the morning light. In an instant she was running once again, the bell ringing in her ears, the entire race ran a dreamy blur. Except the line, the flash of the blinding camera, and in slow motion she wrote herself into the records of history.

But suddenly there was another flash. Her face felt hot and her hooves tingled with a burning heat. A fire. It enveloped her, she was screaming. Gypsy Caravan was there, amongst a ball of burning flame, her eyes rolling white with intense fear.

"Gypsy!" Flight Angel screamed, and choked as the fire burned her straining lungs. "Gypsy run!"

The bay disappeared behind a wall of fierce flame, and Flight Angel struggled to keep herself standing. She was strangling, the smoke was burning her eyes, and pulsing fear throughout her entire body. For a few more moments, she struggled, backing and spinning on her haunches but there was no way out. Slowly, she laid herself within the blanket of glowing orange, and her eyes closed in defeat. Then all at once, her world became dark.

It enveloped her, caressing her body with a cool, comforting security. The fear drained from her body as she floated in mid-air, her legs dangling before her as she was lowered deeper into a dark abyss. Gently, she felt earth gather around her with a refreshing coldness. And as she moved her legs, she realized, although she could see nothing, that it was sand.

Slowly she lifted herself to her feet, shaking from her the granules of sand like a sheet of water. Suddenly she gasped as something brushed against her, and the fear rushed back within her veins. Her nostrils fluttered, and although her muscles tensed, she had nowhere to run. The darkness kept her.

A shaft of light unexpectedly fell upon the sandy floor a few strides from where she stood. And although it perplexed her that this light had no source, she could do nothing but stare at it's remarkable beauty. Flight Angel's eyes clouded as before her, this light began to dance like a bright reflection upon a dark pond surface. Then suddenly, a figure swept through the illumination, and disappeared once again into the darkness, but instead of fleeing, Flight Angel stepped foreword. This presence was somehow drawing her towards it.

"Hello?" she whispered, only to hear the faint response of her own echo returning to her. And although no one answered, more shafts of light appeared on all sides of her. She spun in confusion as they leapt through the darkness, and fell silently upon the sand-covered floor. A wind tangled her wispy forelock, and her pupils dilated as before her, the figure emerged.

It was a stallion, black as night, and the most beautiful horse Flight Angel had ever seen. Although she could almost say she recognized him, he was nothing but a shadow, and his form rippled in the softly blowing breeze. A specter of what she thought she knew.

He must of seen her standing there, gaping stupidly at his immaculate form, but if he did, he showed no sign of it, for after a moment, he began to dance. He lifted his fetlocks high into the air, the sand swirling and falling around his ebony hooves. His neck bent left and right as he circled, his beautiful form showing no flaw, no hesitation.

The stallion leapt like a lippizan, and fell from the shaft of light only to reappear in another. Flight Angel found herself spinning with him, her eyes unable to tear themselves away. His massive form pawed the air as he cantered collectively, his long mane and tail dancing with him in the shadows. Slowly he slid to a stop in the light before her, and lowered his head in an impressive bow. She gasped as his mane fell away from his face, and she realized his eyes were golden brown.

"Blackbird!" she exclaimed delightedly as she cantered towards him. The specter froze at attention, his eyes gleaming at her in the incandescence. She halted before him, afraid to enter the billowing pool of light. He lowered his head, his eyes expressing welcome as he backed slowly from her. With caution, Flight Angel placed her hoof in the illumination, and gasped as she realized that the beautiful light, was cold.

The black stallion nodded his approval, and slowly she took another step. The light blinded her, but his presence pulled her, and in a moment, she was standing right before him. She watched his delicately carved nostrils flutter in exhaustion from the dance, and his hard muscles ripple beneath his flawless form as he strained foreword. But his eyes were saddened, and full of longing, and she could not understand why he had brought her here. Why this place even existed. A tear rolled down his cheek, and without even thinking, Flight Angel wrapped her neck around his.

"I forgive you Blackbird, please don't leave me again" she whispered. But before she could take her next breath, he was gone, and she was desperately alone once again.

A/N: I'm sorry it has been so long everyone, but here you are, chapter 14. It's a dreamscape just in case you couldn't tell, and yeah, it has some significance. I don't like it, I think I rushed it too much but let me know what you think! Next chappie should come very soon!


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Flight Angel awoke with a jerk, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. She had been dreaming, just dreaming, but the picture her mind had developed had been so real, so lifelike. _Blackbird…_ Her mind was racing. What did it mean? Why had she dreamt of him?

Blinking off the last threads of sleep and confusion, Flight Angel rose to her feet and stood in awe of the landscape before her. The Rockies, just as she had seen them from her temporary stall at the track, shone brilliantly in the early morning light. Like seaweed trapped in a strong current, the shadows created by the crevices danced and flickered as the sun rose triumphantly behind her amidst a backdrop of pink and orange. The stream beside her gently bubbled through it's course as it fed the overwhelmingly green land on the opposite bank.

Suddenly, Flight Angel ears swiveled full circle. In the distance somewhere, a stallion was screeching. That noise. Something about it made her shudder down to her very bones. Then suddenly, she remembered.

The fire, the stalls burning, the horses screaming into the night. That's how she had arrived here in this beautiful place, she had been chased, shot, and had collapsed here, in this very creek bed. The colors of the sky now had a new meaning. Nature was mourning, for all the murdered horses that had been killed because of her. Flight Angel reared, her eyes stinging with burning, painful tears, and she fled once more.

She galloped across the creek bed, into the tall grass that twisted itself around her hocks and fetlocks. Tucking her head into her chest with anguish, she ran on blindly, sending droplets of dew flinging feet into the air. She had to escape, but where she ran, it didn't matter, for the pain never slackened, never let loose it's grip on her tender heart.

Over the next rise, Flight Angel halted. She lowered her head below her hocks, and let out the most horrible, agonizing sob she had ever breathed. Innocent horses were dead, Rusty was dead, and it was all because of her. She had created her own pain, and had made others suffer because of her. She didn't deserve to live.

Suddenly, another scream spun her on her hindquarters, and the source of it sent her shuddering to her very marrow. Two stallions, both rearing upon their haunches, tore at one another in the misty, morning breeze. They struck each others chests, bit each others faces, and tore at every body part that they could reach. The one stallion, a dirty grey, fell to the ground, and before she could witness the end result, Flight Angel tore the ground and galloped into the distance.

"Wait!" a masculine voice called behind her. "Come back!" With amazing speed and agility, the victor had caught up with her, and had stopped her short with his body. Quickly Flight Angel darted to get around him, but every time he was one step ahead of her, and blocked her path once again. She couldn't understand how he could anticipate her very movements, for she was one of the quickest, but his agility was far superior to her own. Finally, she broke.

"Who do you think you are?" she screamed with outrage. Her blue eyes were blazing, and the look of shock that passed over his face gave her strength. "How dare you try and stop me!" She snorted in his face, and quickly he found himself sitting upon his haunches from her furious pursuit. "You don't even know me!"

Flight Angel with a final glare of hatred turned to walk away, but his soft tenor voice stopped her once again. "You. It was you in the creekbed last night, wasn't it?" Slowly he regained his composure, and approached her, the muscles under his satin coat rippling with strength. His soft, brown eyes tore into her, and she lowered her head in defeat.

"Yes, it was me," she replied in barely a whisper. "Why do you care?"

He tilted his head, his eyes filling with compassion for the young mare, and he dipped his head closer to her saddened face. "I found you last night. And I laid beside you to keep you warm. You were hurt, and burned from-"

"-Please. I don't want to speak about that," she cut him short.

He sighed. "I was only protecting you."

For a second, her eyes blazed again with defiance. "From what? I can do fine on my own," she spat.

"From stallions like Slate," he explained. "The grey stallion you saw me fighting with. He found us this morning, and would of taken you, but I wouldn't let him."

"Why, why do you care for me so much? Why do you care if I live or die?" She questioned her eyes quickly filling with tears.

Slowly the roan stallion looked away from her, his eyes also glossing with sadness. "I have my reasons," he muttered. "And I couldn't just leave you to die."

She thought for a few moments as he carefully stared into her eyes. How did she know he could be trusted? How did she know that the grey stallion didn't want to save her from him, or that he even cared about her at all?

She took a step back from him, her eyes gleaming white with caution. "How do I know I can trust you?"

He answered quickly, "How do you know you can't?" She sighed, he drove a hard bargain, and he was hard to argue with. "Look, I have a herd a few miles away. A bunch of mares that I really must get back to. If you think you are tough enough to survive out here on your own, then by all means, be my guest tame one. But you are welcome to join me, and I'd be humbled to have you."

Flight Angel blinked with uncertainty. The stallion was handsome, a color she had never seen before. He was almost a chestnut, but silver outlined every one of his features, and seemed to dapple his gleaming coat. His legs were black, as was his mane and tail, but as unusual as the coat that adorned him seemed, he was very handsome, and his brown eyes were irresistible.

"Alright, I'll go," she said cautiously. "But not for long. There are things I need to do."

He smiled brightly as she accepted his invitation. "Wonderful!" he exclaimed as he pranced before her. "But first, what is your name?"

"Flight Angel," she smiled lightly. "And you?"

"They call me Sage. Welcome to the herd."

A/N: Oooo two chappies in one day. Can you guys handle it? I think this one is alot better than the last one I just posted, so, I hope you all like it!

A/N 2: So guys, I havn't really gotten alot of reviews on these last two chappies...and it worries me a little bit. Maybe it's because I havn't updated in so long or, maybe everyone is just busy, I dont know. It's not because the stallion isn't Spirit is it? Originally I planned it to be, I swear, but it just doesn't work, ya know? It's not the right time period for Spirit, he lived in the 1800's before there even was a kentucky derby, and more personally, I want to get this published someday. Do you know how hard it would be to get published if I had to go through dreamworks and stuff to use Spirit? I think it's better I just made up my own character, and I'm really sorry if that dissapoints any of you. Please forgive me!

Last A/N: I just checked, and guys, this story has had 4600 hits. Thankyou all, that is so awesome. Now if only all of you reviewed!


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Blackbird stood in the corner of his dreary box stall with rain pouring down the windowpane in blurry sheets. His mind wandered as the lightning tore the sky. Could it really be true? Could she be gone…forever?

A single, warm tear rolled down his cheek. The last memory she ever had of him was on that fateful afternoon a few weeks ago. He had been covered in the victims blood, his eyes full of rage as he snapped at her worried face. He shuddered. How could he think that she could still have feelings for him, that she still cared? Could he of been her last thought before she perished?

Slowly he turned from the raging storm outside and shuffled across his dimly lit cell. Peaking his head out into the aisle, he looked to and from for any signs of life. The stall still empty beside him sent a depressing shiver up his spine, and quickly he turned away. But further down the corridor, far from the heartbreak that tormented him, a man on crutches made his way to the barns central office. Beside himself, Blackbird nickered, and the mans course swiftly changed direction.

"Hey there colt," the man swooned as he leaned upon one leg and lovingly stroked the stallions face. "It's been such a long time since I've seen you."

Blackbird tossed his head, and in one swooping motion nudged the jockey's bulging coat pocket. The man chuckled, and produced in his chaffing hand a sweet smelling, orange carrot. Blackbird engulfed it in one easy bite, then gratefully nuzzled the mans unshaven face.

Suddenly reminded of his initial reason for visiting the stable on this rainy afternoon, Joe turned away and hobbled towards a beam of uncertain light lacing the aisle way. Blackbird watched him with uncertain eyes as the man breathed heavily in his effort to walk on his own, and then leaned casually on the doorway.

"Good Afternoon Mr. Thomas," Joe greeted lightheartedly. Blackbird heard the squeaky office chair rotate, and then thump upwards as the middle-aged man stood to shake the jockeys hand.

"Nice to see you Joe," he smiled with forced enthusiasm. "What brings you to the barn today?"

Mr. Thomas motioned for him to sit, and he pleasantly obliged, taking his usual green armchair right below the window. Mr. Thomas then took his own seat, and fumbled through a few more papers before taking off his worn eyeglasses. Right above him, an old oak clock ticked away the quiet minutes as Joe stared placidly at a framed picture of Phoenix standing in the Lexington winners circle.

The office hadn't changed since the last time he had visited a few weeks before. The file cabinet still stood with it's drawers haphazardly flung open like it always had, only with a bit more papers flung around it's dusty base. The dog ear of wall paper just below the ceiling corner had peeled downwards a tad more, but he found he rather liked it. Many sleepless nights in joyous times past he had stared at the very spot, discussing statistics and racing strategies in hushed overtones to lamplight. Much to his dismay however, a framed photo that had always stood proudly on the managers desk, now faced the desktop. The timeless filly that stood in it's frame as a yearling lost to memories past.

"Sir, I know you're very busy, but I just had to come and," he paused at a loss for words, "And offer my sympathy." Slowly Mr. Thomas sighed. The pain Joe had caused him to relive in that moment seethed from his weary eyes, and slumped, defeated back. Sluggishly, Mr. Thomas's deep, remorseful eyes met those of his beloved jockey.

With a smile he waved his hand. "No Joe, it should be me that is offering the sympathies. We all loved her, but none of us knew her as you did. No one knew her moments of glory better."

Joe caught a lurching sob in his throat, and held himself quiet for a few moments. Then he rose his eyes, and immediately felt connected in sadness to his employer.

"I guess the reason I am here sir, is to ask you, what now? What will we do with all the plans we cannot fufill?"

Despite himself, Mr. Thomas chuckled with sorrow. "We do what any good horseman does Joe, we move on. We make new plans, although we keep the past treasured in our secret heart. We'll never meet another filly like her Joe, she was a once in a lifetime horse. But I know she would want us to keep trying." Joe nodded, and took his friends word to heart. Mr. Thomas continued with a heavy heart. "I have our resignation from the Derby right here, we'll just have to try again next year, that's all."

Joe traced his eyes over the flowing patterns in the worn old carpet. The derby had been their dream, ever since that filly had been born in the broodmare stable. They had waited three years, had pushed her for numerous morning workouts to mold her in perfection, to mold her into a champion. And that was all lost with her in the blazing fire….or was it?

Joe sprang from his chair with enthusiasm, flinching from the pain that shot up his broken leg. For the first time since Flight Angel's death, he had hope again.

"Mr. Thomas, what if we enter another horse? We'd still be able to run the derby!" The words of the jockey filled the room with something it hadn't felt in ages, ambition.

Delighted with Joe's words of optimism, Mr. Thomas pulled his eyeglasses from his face, and wiped his forehead. "It's a wonderful dream Joe, it is. But the truth is, we have no one to replace her. None in our three year old crop come even close to being Derby winners."

Joe sighed as he realized the middle-aged man was right. Morning Star was an excellent filly, but she could never sprint like the Derby demanded and preferred long distance. Greyhound had a lot of ability, but he lacked in stamina, and would fall back in the final furlongs. Rusty could of done it, but they would never discover what his true capabilities could of done.

Joe scratched his face, and glanced out the doorway, catching the eye of a sulky black colt. And then Joe had it. The one that no one expected any greatness out of. The one who had never been tested for a level of greatness. The one he knew could be a Derby Champion.

"What about Blackbird?"

A/N: I know it's short and a little bit of a cliffy, but I'll update the next chappie as soon as I can! Hope ya'll like it! I wrote a songfic to accompany this story also, so if you're interested in reading that, just send me a PM and I'll get it right to ya! (I cant submit it on here because of the rules unfortunately) Leave me lots of happy comments!


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Hey there dudes. You probably thought I died, well...I didn't. I've just been uploading this story at a different place that lets me do so much more with it. It's called deviantart, maybe you have heard of it. I actually have 21 Chapters written now, but I'm only gonna post them one at a time So, leave me some good comments and I will post the next chapter ASAP. Enjoy!

**Chapter 17**

Flight Angel warily trailed behind the roan stallion. They had been walking for hours across a deep, winding valley, and surely were the only living things for miles. This wide space, with no security of fences or warm, cozy barns left Flight Angel with a feeling of foreboding; and although she somewhat feared the untamed stud to walk beside him, she followed closely.

Never before in her life had she seen such an example of masculinity in an animal of her kind. The thoroughbreds off the track were sleek and aerodynamic, with firm rippling muscles designed specifically for speed. But Sage was different. He too had the rippling, sleek muscles, but instead of being built up by training, they had been etched out of necessity and the hardship of living in the wild. She traced with her eyes the long, curving contours of his coat and shivered as the scars on his flanks reminded her of how many times he must have had to use those very muscles in order to stay alive.

Sage also had a look in his eyes Flight Angel had never seen up to this point. The were full of fire and wildness she had yet to witness in even the most high-strung of thoroughbreds. But along with that ferocity, there was also cautiousness. It reflected itself to her in the whites of his eyes and his careful, purposeful steps. Any second he could be in severe danger, and she wondered how he could ever sleep at night knowing that any minute could be his last.

"Is there something wrong?"

Flight Angel's eyes quickly caught Sage's gaze as she stopped abruptly. Without even knowing it, she had been staring at him, and with a self-satisfying grin, he knew it.

"Uh no, not at all," She stuttered quickly. "I've never seen a wild horse that's all. I was trying to figure out what makes you so much different from me."

Sage chuckled deep in his throat as he picked up his slow, prodding pace again. "Nothing makes me different from you. We're horses, drinkers of the wind, thunder of the earth." He tossed his head sending his billowing black mane high into the air. "Only you like to run in circles."

He turned his head slightly to smile at her, and beside herself she blushed.

With a hint of defensiveness Flight Angel questioned. "What would you know about 'running in circles' anyway?"

The handsome stallion breathed a deep sigh, and turned to face her. Behind him, the sun had begun to set in brilliant shades of orange and red. They colors reached tenderly across the Western sky, and painted themselves like a dancing bonfire on the cliffs before their meandering path. What the wild lacked in security, it certainly made up for in flawless beauty.

"My mother was a racehorse, believe it or not," Sage smiled. "And a good one at that, until my father convinced her to leap from her paddock and join his band. They were in love at one time."

Flight Angel cocked her head with curiosity. "What happened to them?"

"I don't know, I haven't seen them since I was chased from my home herd. But I like to think they are still together somewhere. My father was an excellent stallion, he took wonderful care of his mares."

Flight angel nodded, and they continued their trek towards their destination, except this time, Flight Angel walked beside him. For a few minutes they remained silent, each thinking fondly of their childhood and upbringing, until Flight Angel spoke again.

"Sage, is that why that grey stallion wanted me? To be a part of his herd?"

Sage's eyes grew wide with surprise, but he answered her softly. "Yes, ever since he lost his herd he has been looking to start a new one. Preferably with my mares, if he can steal them." The roan stallion winked and gave her an impressive grin. She returned the favor, but then her face returned to it's former seriousness.

"How did he loose his herd?"

Sage sighed, the pain from his memories catching in his breath. "Not all stallions are good Angel, and he treated his mares with a cold heart. That is until I stole his band a few years back, which is the same band that I watch over now.

It was winter, two feet of snow covered the ground in one of the worst snow storms this area has ever seen in my time. Slate refused to let his mares shelter in the pine grove where we are headed, and so all their young colts and fillies froze to death in the snow. None of the mares ever forgave him, and when the storm let up and the sun shone again, they rebelled. There was a particular filly, too young to have a foal of her own, that eventually challenged him in the end."

Flight Angel's mouth hung open with awe. It was like the stories her mother used to tell her of the wild ones when she would have trouble sleeping at night, except this, was real. Bursting with excitement like a yearling and completely entranced with the story, she pressed him further. "What happened?"

Sage laughed softly at her enthusiasm, and happily continued. "Well, I don't know exactly how it started, but it just so happens that I was close enough to hear the battle ensue and galloped over to see if I could join in. I was a bachelor then, and in my mind I could conquer the world, I was ready for anything, until I came upon the scene and saw a tiny mare fighting a stallion in his prime. I doubt I will ever see that again in my lifetime, but Windrunner was a fiery little thing." He paused for a moment to recollect his thoughts.

"I've never seen a filly fight so hard before, but she had good reason, the blizzard had killed her poor old mother as well as her younger sister. And in my astonishment, she actually knocked him off his feet. But when he got back up, I knew no matter how hard of a fighter she was, he would of killed her right then and there. Which is when I stepped in. And ran him out."

Sage lifted his head with pride. "And the herd I fought for so many years ago, is the one I keep now. Although it's becomes Slate's lifelong goal to make my life a living hell for stealing his herd, but I don't mind. It was more than worth it."

Flight Angel locked her gaze upon the ground, her mind whirling with so many thoughts. It had been the first time in what seemed like years that she had forgotten the terrible events of the night before. And her eyes lit up with happiness for the first time since she had met him.

"This Windrunner, will I meet her when we find your herd?" She questioned hopefully. What an honor it would be to meet such a filly as this one Sage spoke about with such fondness! Never in her life had she even heard of a mare fighting a stallion, it was almost too exciting for her to handle. But much to her surprise, Sage's face twisted with pain and he cantered ahead.

"We're almost there, c'mon it's just a little further."

Flight Angel, with a pause of confusion, quickly cantered to meet him. Just over the next rise, a small, shady grove of pine trees stood sheltered against the wall of a rocky gorge. The moon, now bursting in its fullness above them, sent white beams of light filtering through their magnificent branches. It was other worldly, and Angel didn't mind at all following her companion into the otherwise, spooky darkness.

After a moment Sage disappeared, nickering with worry. When he got no response, he picked his way through the frosty boughs with an easy familiarity. Flight Angel stood in a shaft of moonlight to wait for him, and whickered happily when he finally did appear to her. Stepping into the pool of light, he tossed his finely-sculpted head.

"Raina must of taken them across the river," he explained. "When I went to investigate the scent of fire, I instructed her to do so if I did not return immediately. She's a smart mare that Raina." Sage smiled with satisfaction at her loyalty.

"Who is Raina?" Flight Angel asked with confusion.

"Ahh," Sage reminisced. "My lead mare, she's a pretty appaloosa with a lot of sense. You'll meet her tomorrow probably. It's too dark to cross the river now, we'll find them tomorrow. Tonight we'll stay here, wolves will be on the prowl."

"Wolves?" Flight Angel gasped with fear. She could feel the fur on the back of her neck prickling with terror. She had never seen a wolf, but the yearlings used to scare the young fillies with stories of their ferocity. From what she remembered, wolves could tear horses apart limb from limb while they were still very alive, and whether it was true or not, it completely terrified her.

Sage laughed under his breath. "No need to worry young filly. I'll keep watch. You catch up on some sleep, you'll need it." And with a flick of his tail he disappeared into the miniature forest again, to stand guard at it's entrance.

With caution she spun around, looking in every shadow for a wolves hungry eyes, and listening for any hint of their menacing, bone-chilling howl. After she was satisfied that she was indeed the only creature within the pines, she lowered onto her knees, and plopped with a grunt upon her side. She thought quietly as her breathing slowed with drowsiness, of the fearless mare who challenged a ruthless stallion and wondered if someday she could ever possess that kind of courage.

At that moment she looked upwards, her glossy, blue eyes gazing at the vastest expanse of stars she had ever seen in her short lifetime. She wondered deep in her heart, if somehow, somewhere, Blackbird was looking at the same stars and thinking of her. For an unknown reason she felt guilty, very guilty although the source remained illusive. Slowly, her eyes closed as the thought of him comforted her, and in her dreams, she galloped with him across the brilliant sky.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Early the next morning, Joe hobbled down the barn corridor just as the first shafts of sunlight peered over the rolling, bluegrass hills. Stable boys, running to and fro with morning chores touched their hats to the famous jockey as they passed by with buckets and wheelbarrows. Joe absent-mindedly returned their kind gestures, but his mind was focused on one thing, and that was the black colt.

He exited the rear of the stable, trudging down the narrow, dirt pathway to the training track. The track rats, with stopwatches in hand, glimpsed at him curiously. What could a jockey with a broken leg possibly be doing at the training track? Their snickers pulled the corners of Joe's tense lips further downward, but he did not stop to put them in their place, but rather rubbed a golden pocket watch in his gentle hands.

Joe placed his crutches against the dusty, white rail, and took his place for the first time amongst the racehorse trainers. Each old, grey man had dozens of horses assigned to them, and dozens of years of experience to add to their already brilliant strategies. Joe felt humbled, but at the same time, privileged to stand beside them, even if he was only in charge, of one, black horse.

"What are you doing up here all by yourself Joe? I'm not used to seeing you on the ground," Murphy, the oldest of the trainers chuckled. "Itchin' to get back up in that saddle are yeh?"

Joe smiled at the old mans curiosity, and tapped his dusty hat across his thigh. "Oh Murph, you know I am. And I know you've got the best horses for me to ride when this leg of mine heals."

"Darn right I do Joe!" the old trainer eagerly replied. "I've got this 3 year old colt, spunky little thing. I think he's got a good chance. Nothing like Angel, but a good piece of horse flesh nonetheless."

"Funny ya mention that Murphy. Actually, Mr. Thomas has got me training a colt myself, since I can't do much else." Joe forced himself to smile. "Would ya mind maybe giving me some advice? I'm kind of new to this training thing."

The old trainer slapped his knee in surprise. "Well I'll be damned Joe, I knew Mr. Thomas had something up his sleeve, that sly dog!" He shook his head in disbelief. "Who does he got ya training? Greyhound?"

Joe cast his eyes over the winding track, his face twisted between pride and doubt. "Actually, it's Blackbird."

Just at that moment the ebony colt breezed by the trainers in a gust of sweet smelling breeze. Joe watched his hindquarters bunch and relax as each stride pulled him foreward, and caught the glinting sun off his freshly nailed shoes. Joe heard his snorty breathing, and shook his head with worry. The colt had only breezed a half a mile, and was already out of breath.

Joe tapped his stopwatch, watching as the second hand ticked, and then stopped as Blackbird hit the quarter mile pole. The time was good, but it wasn't great. Average times would not score them the winners circle at the derby, and in his heart Joe knew the colt wasn't even trying. If Blackbird lost faith in himself, the derby this year had already been lost.

"What would you like me to do with him Joe?" the young exercise boy called as the colt cantered clockwise towards the track exit. Joe's mind was whirrling with questions, but as the colt closed in on him, he couldn't help but admire the young stallions eloquent beauty.

Proportionally, the colt had perfect conformation. His eyes were large and inquisitive, and always concentrating upon the whip his rider carried. His ears were erect, but stood foreward for he ran in enjoyment, and only flicked backwards at the commands of his rider. His chest was broad and barreled, his legs long and straight. He had good bone, sound hooves, and a strong, smooth hindquarter. Joe marveled at how well he must of looked in the colt's saddle when he breezed him on the track, for he was an exceptional animal.

"Sir?" the rider questioned a little louder, his question still remaining unanswered.

"Oh um yes," Joe started. "He had a decent workout, let him rest. Put him out in his pasture."

Blackbird stood quietly at the fence as the exercise boy closed the pasture gate. He watched the young boy walk towards the track, and sighed as finally, he disappeared from view. More than anything he wanted to be in his warm stall, with the comforting noises of usual barn activity consuming his thoughts, but out here, there was nothing but silence.

How long had it been now since he had heard the news of his beloveds death? One week, two weeks? He didn't even know, thinking of her shattered his heart in a million pieces, so if it could be helped he preferred not to think of her at all. But out in this paddock, in the warm, glowing rays of the morning sun, he could think of nothing but Flight Angel.

Even as he stood in the midst of this perfect Monday morning, nature itself could not even begin to compare itself with Angel. Her eyes shone bluer, and brighter than the sweetest sunrise. Her coat was golden, dappled in radiance unlike anything he had ever laid his eyes on. The smell of her, oh God, the smell of her sent his mind spinning, even more so than the wind that called him galloping after its breeze. She was the model for the painting of perfection.

"Thinking of her are you?"

Blackbird whirled to face the thing that had invaded upon his private thoughts and sighed with relief. "Phoenix, my God, you scared me."

The liver chestnut stallion smiled. "I didn't mean to intrude, but I haven't seen you in a while, and I thought I would pay a visit to an old friend."

Blackbirds heart fluttered with a flicker of happiness for a moment, and he trotted over to the older stallion to rub noses. They both arched their necks in the most masculine of stallion's display, and blew softly into each others nostrils. In play, Phoenix nipped at the black colts lip, and Blackbird tossed his head with delight.

"You never get too old to play halter tag do you?" Blackbird chuckled. Phoenix joined him in laughter, but then his expression grew more serious.

"Blackbird, about.."

"Please Phoenix, I know what you're about to say," the black colt interrupted. "Don't, please don't."

Phoenix nodded, "I just wanted you to know that you have my condolences Blackbird, and that if you need to talk I'm here. I know what it's like to loose someone you care about."

Abruptly, Blackbird's ears flattened, and he bared his teeth. Everything that he had held upon his shoulders in the past few weeks came crashing down with rapid force. "How could you possibly know? How could you even begin to know?!" Blackbirds eyes whitened with rage as he furiously stomped in a circle. "First I'm a murderer, a killer. Have you ever murdered someone Phoenix?"

Phoenix reeled at his newfound hostility, but immediately his eyes softened with sympathy. "You're not a murderer Blackbird."

Blackbird shook his head with disbelief. "How can you say that? Rusty is dead because of me. I should be in a can of dog food right now, and no one would even care if I was."

Phoenix sighed. "You were merely defending yourself. Jealousy is nothing to laugh at Blackbird, and Rusty was full of it. And about the dog food, you're better than that, stop putting yourself below where you are meant to be."

Blackbirds heart softened a little. It never occurred to him that he could of possibly been just fighting in self defense, but that still gave him no right to snap at his lover, and even so he didn't believe the older stallion. He was guilty, and in his heart he knew the truth.

"What am I without her Phoenix?" Blackbird gasped with pain. "She meant everything to me, and now she's…

"She has moved on to a different stage in her life," Phoenix interjected. "She'll never leave you as long as you keep her in your heart, and I know wherever she is, she's thinking about you. I know she'd want you to take her place at the Derby, it was her dream Blackbird. If there was anything you could ever do to show her how much you loved her, it would be to win that."

Blackbird bit his lip, stifling the sob that caught in his throat. "I'm not good enough Phoenix, my workout this morning sucked, it was awful. And I have no support, no one in the barn will even speak to me after what happened. No one believes in me."

"That's a bunch of bull. I believe in you, and I know she still does. No one else's opinion matters except your own. And hey, when you do win the Derby, you can just flaunt it in their face when you bring home the cup."

The wind tussled Blackbird's mane as he lifted his eyes to meet the chestnut stallions. There was so much wisdom in those eyes, so much care and trust. Blackbird felt so alone, but at the same time, he felt cared for, and needed. "Do you really think I can win the Derby Phoenix?"

"Trust me Blackbird, I know you can. All you need to do, is believe in yourself"


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Flight Angel's eyes slowly opened just as the first morning light filtered through the sheltering pines. The forest was cool, and hung with a wispy, rolling fog that made the shafts of sunlight dance in otherworldly haze. She slowly stirred to her feet, shaking off the dew with a quick twitch of her withers before heading out into the welcoming dawn. The noise that had awoken her echoed through the forest again, and as she broke through the brambles, her eyes laid upon a sight that she had only ever been told stories about as a foal.

Walking towards her up the valley wall, was a small herd of horses.

Flight Angel's eyes widened as she realized how many different colors the wild ones came in. And much more to her surprise, there was a structure to their small family group. The way the old cow ponies relayed the stories made the rouge horses seem like a pack of completely wild, uncivilized beings. But watching them walk towards her, single file in rank, Flight Angel knew that they were more like her than any tame horse she had ever met.

Suddenly a high-pitched squeal of joy rang out from behind her, and Sage burst from the forest with a clattering of excited hooves. Her mane pulled in the breeze he left in his wake as he galloped ahead, and she smiled as his herd stopped and whickered with recognition. Twice Sage cantered around them, tossing his head and kicking his heels with newfound playfulness. He touched noses with each of them, blowing a greeting into their nostrils, completely oblivious to anything but his own delight. But not everyone was inattentive to the new visitor.

Before Flight Angel even saw the little colt, he stood before her, his ears pricked with careful interest. She eyed him cautiously, knowing that little more than 100 yards away his mother stood within the herd, a herd where she was not yet welcome. Her mind whirled. She wanted to greet the spotted, furry colt who was brave enough to approach her, but feared the mother's consequences if she did so.

In that instant of indecision, the Appaloosa baby chose for her. He took a few more steps towards her, and stopped less than a foot from her hooves, his chest puffed out proudly. Angel whickered deep in her throat, and the baby squealed with delight as they touched noses. He clacked his teeth in submission, and she did the same, being only a filly herself. When they pulled apart, his speech came in an excited burst.

"Who are you? Where is your herd? My name is Maverick, who are you? Have you met my dad? I'm just like him you know, I'm going to be a lead stallion someday!" Maverick half-reared in excitement of being the first to greet the new visitor.

Flight Angel smiled, "It's a long story little one. Where is your-"

"-Maverick!" The commanding voice was quick and sharp. Undoubtedly the young colts mother. "What do you think you're doing?"

Maverick quivered, but when he noticed Angel was watching puffed out his chest again. "I'm inspecting the new mare, mother. It's what any stallion would do," he stated matter-of-factly.

The Appaloosa mare eyed her colt suspiciously, but could not argue with his young ambitions. "Very well son. Go find Sable and play for a while, I will find you later on."

"But-"

"Go Maverick, its not up for discussion." The colt hung his head with dissapointment, and reluctantly walked off towards a young grey colt and his mother.

Sage shook his head with discontent. "You couldn't of let him stay Raina? He wasn't causing any trouble. Someday he'll have to learn-"

"Today is not that day. And now for you." Raina snapped towards Flight Angel. "Who are you? What is your business here?"

Angel took a step backwards in shock. The mare was so hostile towards her, and yet she did nothing wrong. Had Sage not invited her to join his herd? Had she not been respectful and submissive to this point?

"My name is Flight Angel. I do not know why I'm here, all I know is that Sage asked me to stay."

Raina's hostility quickly turned towards her mate. "You initiated her without consulting me?" Her golden eyes narrowed. "Sage…how many times-"

"-Raina, relax. I did what I thought was best at the time," He replied with a grain of salt.

The mares ears flattened and her jaw tensed with anger. "And what time was that Sage? You were supposed to be checking on the humans, not off stealing mares. How could you even think of such a thing when you left your herd alone to the devices of any wild bachelor. I can't believe you, risking your family for some gangly tramp."

Sage's eyebrow twitched at his mates remark, but he quickly relaxed. "I found her on the way home Raina, she needed my help. The fire nearly killed her."

"The what? The fire?" Raina's ears flattened even more. "She's one of them!?"

"One of who?" Angel's voice interjected for the first time in the rather insulting conversation.

Raina spat. "The human slaves. Sage you have endangered us all. The humans are no doubt looking for their precious nag, and when they find her they'll find us."

"I'm no nag," Flight Angel growled. "How dare you…"

The spotted mare leaped at the thoroughbred, grabbing her throat in a quick and definitive scoff. Angel stumbled and fell to her knees in the swirling dust. Raina slammed her foot into the ground, and threw her head in complete authority.

"If I saw you're a nag, you're a nag. I am in charge here filly, and you will obey me."

"Raina," Sage said softly. "The fire completely obliterated the human enclosure, no horses could of survived the blaze. More than likely, they believe she is dead."

Raina took a moment to consider the situation. One more mare would add prominence to the small herd, and give her more authority. On the other hand, one more mare would give Sage one more mare to look after and tend to, and be one more mouth to feed on the meager grassland. And those eyes…she recognized those eyes…

"She looks like her doesn't she?" Raina barked. "That's why you want her, its her eyes.."

The jealousy in Raina's voice was evident, and for a moment Angel was uncertain of how her future would run its course. Sage obviously was defending her, but why? He had plenty of mares to care for, mares that had carried his seed and proven themselves. She didn't understand the ways of the wild ones.

"You're wrong," Sage retorted. "If I did not take her, Slate would of, and that would of given him more power that he doesn't need. One taste of another mare, and we'd feel his breath on our neck every moment of every day, and I cannot take that risk. She stays Raina, that's the end of this." with a swish of his ebony tail, Sage's authority as the herd stallion settled the matter. More often than not, it was th elead mare's job to make decisions and decide what was best for the herd, but when the stallion wanted his way, he got it. In a way Flight Angel was glad he fought for her place, but another part of her quivered with apprehension. Raina owned her, and she had no say.

"Very well. Come, nag, you can take your place in the back of the line with that worthless mare."

And without another word, Raina set off towards the open plain with each individual following her in rank. Flight Angel waited until last to follow the small band, where she found herself following an oddly colored mare. Her eyes were gentle, and much to Angel's surprise, very blue like her own.

"Come now filly, you can follow me. I'll teach you what you need to know," the mare smiled pleasantly, and without hesitation, Flight Angel trotted up alongside her.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Lost in fields of bluegrass, Flight Angel had forgotten her long trek through the mountain prairie. She was standing knee deep in a field of daises, surrounded by miles and miles of white split-rail fence. Behind her, like a lighthouse on the shore of an evergreen sea, stood the white, wooden barns of the only home she had ever known.  
In the pasture beside her, hooves thundered towards the silhouetted barns. The yearling colts kicked up their young heels and shook the nylon halters on their slender faces. Those legs, so long and lean would someday carry them to the winners circle, just as they had been bred to. She closed her eyes and listened to the short squeals of their young play, but was startled in her reminiscing by a deeper squeal, a stallions call. She knew the velvet in that voice, the love and tenderness in the tone. It was him.

"Where are you filly?"

Flight Angel's eyes lost their glaze as she was awakened from her pleasant daydreaming. The green pastures quickly faded into prairie, and before she could even see the dark form approaching her, it was gone in a wisp of wind. Her heart dropped to her hooves, and she drag her muzzle in the red desert sand.

A soft muzzle touched her cheek, and Flight Angel's eyes glanced upwards to see the white mare staring down at her. 

"Time heals all pain young one. You'll see." The sweet voice touched her heart, and the palomino lifted her head to the level of the kind, sweet mare.

Angel's eyebrows slowly creased. "Who are you? Why are you treating me this way?"

A low chuckle came from the mare's wide chest. "Wouldn't you give a stranger the same treatment if they came to your land?"

Flight Angel thought for a moment, and realized she already had. When Blackbird had come to her stable, beaten and broken, she had befriended him in the first moment she could. "Yes, I would."

The mare nodded. "As for who I am, my name is Skye. I am the Omega mare in this herd, if you want to put it in that sense."

"Omega?" the palomino's voice wavered with uncertainty.

"This will be a good lesson for you filly," the older mare winked. "Usually as yearlings the young ones here are taught the ways of our natural enemies, the grey wolf, but with you, I will make an exception.

"In a wolf pack, there are many members, just as there are in a herd like this one. Each has its rank, all the way from the top to the bottom, and even the young know their place. The top two, are the Alpha pair. In a sense the leaders. To bring it into perspective, Raina and Sage are the Alpha pair here. There are various ranks in-between, but at the bottom falls the Omega, the lowest ranking. That is who I am."

Flight Angel's face furrowed with thought. "Who determines who ranks where Skye? Why must their be rank at all. Back at my home-"

Skye's voice was gentle, yet firm. "This is your home now. The way of the wild ones is now your way. There is nothing wrong with hope, but holding onto the past is only going to hurt. I know, I've been there.

"As for who determines who ranks where in a herd, that is up to the lead mare. Of course you can challenge the mare above you if you are not satisfied, but mainly, we prefer peace and structure."

"I…I just don't understand. Raina doesn't seem like a very good leader to me, who decided that she would be the one in charge?"  
Skye's lip furled into a painful grimace. "She decided. At one time, I was the leader here, and I had twice the mares beneath me that Raina does now. Her jealousy of Sage's affections towards me turned her against me, and when she challenged me, I lost."

"Then why did you stay?" Flight Angel's expression was one of disbelief.

"And where would I go? Sage told me how Slate tried to steal you from him on your way to the grove. Surely if I traveled away from his protection, Slate would have me under his control. I couldn't go back to him." Her blue eyes closed with painful memories.

"You were with him once before?"

Skye smiled at the palomino with understanding. "I suppose you have a right to know the past of this herd, since you are now a member. But listen carefully, the memories are painful, and I only care to relive them once.

"Many years ago, when I was still a young thing like you are, things around here were very different. Sage was still a colt himself, maybe four at most, and Slate was the leader of this herd. He was ruthless, cold hearted, and took mares whenever he pleased, without their consent. None of us dared to oppose him, we feared for our lives and the lives of our foals, that was until there was Windrunner.

"When Slate took over, he killed every colt he could lay his teeth on. A few escaped, but most didn't. He kept the fillies for breeding purposes, and used them to pleasure himself when they were not ready to be mounted. It was about three years into his rule when a particularly bad winter fell over the valley. Despite the mares pleading for the safety of their foals, Slate refused to let them shelter in the pine groves, and made them endure the biting frost. Come morning, all the foals, and a handful of mares froze to death in the dark of night. That, was when Windrunner lost it.

"You see, over the summer months, Windrunner had been secretly visiting Sage in the creekbed. How she managed to slip away without Slate noticing, no one knows, but they had been planning for Sage's takeover. Unfortunately, it came to late.

"That morning when Windrunner awoke to her dead mother and yearling sister laying beside her, she charged Slate with fury and knocked him into the freezing snow. She pawed at his sides, knocking the breath from his chest, but in one swift kick he knocked her down, and came back at her with a vengeance. They both reared up, clashing in the crisp winter air and screaming with rage. That's when Sage galloped onto the scene, and chased him off with Windrunner's help."

Flight Angel's eyes widened as the tale came to a close. Sage's story was true. A filly had challenged a stallion, and had won!

"Where is Windrunner Skye? I want to meet her," Flight angel questioned with excitement, but Skye's eyes quickly dimmed.

"Windrunner is dead Flight Angel. We shall save that story for some other time." And without another word, the Perlino mare trotted ahead, leaving more questions unanswered, than solved.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

"You need to push harder!"

The thundering of hooves against the thick bluegrass was deafening. Two figures, black and red, pounded heavily side by side down a long stretch of white rail fence. Nostrils flaring, muscles rippling, the darker horse struggled to keep pace with the eloquent chestnut in their race to touch the farthest corner.

"I…can't.." the black stallion panted as the distant oak tree grew closer with encroaching speed.

"That isn't an answer Blackbird!" Phoenix whinnied over the earthen thunder. "Show me what you've got!"

With a practiced ease, Phoenix leaped into a gear unthinkable at this already brisk pace. Blackbird quickly fell behind, and struggled to get himself closer to the blurring ground. His legs ached from the half mile gallop, and his lungs stung with inadequate oxygen. How could the older stallion possibly keep pulling further and further ahead?

Phoenix looked over his shoulder at the struggling colt, and threw his head up with pure delight. The adrenaline was pumping thoroughly through his veins, and he struck at the rail like a young foal at play.

"This is where champions are made my friend! When the legs sting and the muscles ache! Those who find a way, find the circle!"

The lighter stallion quickly slowed to a canter, then a trot as the old oak came into view, bucking with happiness between each transition. Blackbird however, was exhausted. In every training session he had ever participated in, never had he pushed himself so hard, and failed by such a margin. Maybe he just didn't have what it took. Maybe, he wasn't meant for the track after all.

"Good run Blackbird. I've never seen a colt stretch himself out so far. You must have been hitting 30 foot strides!" Phoenix flared his lip in pure exhilaration. Blackbird however, hung his ebony head.

"I'm worthless. I didn't even come close to beating you," he stated flatly. "I'm just a failure."

Phoenix cocked his finely shaped head and let out a deep sigh. "I'm not going to lie to you Blackbird, you have so much raw talent! It's like nothing I've ever seen in any colt that has stepped foot in these stables."

Blackbird met the older stallions eyes for a moment, then quickly looked away. He knew it took more than talent to make it to the top, and if that's all he had, he was doomed. He would never win the Derby like everyone depended him to.

"You're a great racehorse Blackbird, but, your heart just doesn't seem to be in it anymore. Ever since…well, I don't have to tell you, I'm sure you know what I was going to say."

Blackbird did know what he was going to say, and he was grateful to the older stud for not pressing the matter any further. Phoenix was right. Nothing had been the same since he had lost her. His dreams, his ambitions, his spirit, all seemed to be fading away right before him like dandelion seeds in the breeze. You can only watch them so long before they disappear into the distance, and that was exactly what was happening. His very being was slipping away with her soul to the heavens.

After letting Blackbird think for a while, Phoenix stretched his neck over the fence, and touched the colt's sweaty side with his muzzle. "Look Blackbird. I'm not sure if you want to hear it or not, but time does heal the wounds, you just need to give it a chance. She wouldn't want you to be dying inside because of her, you know that as well as I do. Consider yourself very lucky, it's better to of loved and lost, than never to have loved at all."

Blackbird's brown orbs slanted upwards as he looked his old-time friend in the face. For a moment, he forgot himself to curiosity. "I thought you loved Angel at one time, didn't you?"

Phoenix looked slowly away. "I may have had some feelings for her at a point, but it wasn't love Blackbird, not in that way. We appreciated each other as friends, and that's all anything ever was. I've never had anyone like you've had her. I've never felt that way towards any other, and no mare has ever had those feelings for me."

It was time for Phoenix's eyes to glaze with sadness, and instantaneously, Blackbird felt sympathy. He knew what it was like not to be cared about by anyone, even humans, and it was a dark and lonely place. How strong must he have been to be a champion all these years, having no one but himself? Having no one to nuzzle him goodnight or stand head to tail and swish the flies from his face? Blackbird at that moment admired him more than any other breathing being he had ever met.

"You'll meet someone someday Phoenix. All the fillies want a stud like you," Blackbird half-smiled in an attempt to encourage. The chestnut stallion returned the favor.

"Perhaps, but perhaps not. After this year I'll go to the breeding shed and cover a hundred different mares a year. I have no choice, and neither do my pre-selected partners. It's the way of things, and no mare wants to stretch her affections towards a stud who's practically raping her. There is no one out there for me. I've already accepted that, and have come to terms with it. I appreciate the effort though."

Blackbird turned his head away, knowing in his heart that Phoenix was right. Two years from now, was he to follow the same fate, and be lonely for the rest of his life as well? The thought terrified him more than anything. He was utterly, alone.

"It is time for my ride with Mr. Thomas Blackbird, I see him waiting for me at the gate. Don't worry, tomorrow when you get on the trailer, things will be different. They always are when you're under pressure." And with a wink and a head toss, Phoenix galloped off full speed towards his ever attentive master.

Blackbird circled the elderly oak, collecting all his thoughts and lessons from the past few days. There was so much to remember, so much to concentrate on, he was scared to death he would forget what he learned the moment he needed it. Never before had he run in such a prestigious race, or any important race for that matter, and he knew his competitors would be the best.

"Hey, don't think too hard," a sweet feminine voice fawned from across the fence. Blackbird looked up, startled, only to discover that it was Morning Star, Flight Angel's foal hood friend.

"You frightened me, but it's good not to be alone," Blackbird smiled as he approached her brown, hazy form. The sun was setting, and without so much as the flick of a tail, they watched it together in silence. The last rays burnt themselves into deep shades of purple, before either could bring themselves to speak again.

"Blackbird, I just want you to know that no one is mad at you for what happened," the mare stated gently "It wasn't your fault, you did all you could do."

Blackbird had nearly forgotten about the incident she was speaking of, and it ripped his heart even further knowing that for the rest of his life, no matter how many races he won, he would still be a murderer.

"I'm sorry Star. I'm sorry about everything."

"It's alright," she comforted. "Everything happens for a reason."

The glossy brown eyes of the black stallion slowly opened and closed with pure emotional pain. His lip quivered, but he held back all he could inside himself.

"You, you loved him didn't you?" He suddenly questioned, lifting his eyes to her own.

The filly stared at him in complete shock. "You mean, Rusty?" she replied quietly.

Blackbird paused before he spoke. "Yes, him."

Morning Star's expression completely fell into a state of surprise and shame. How could he of known her true feelings for the arrogant colt? She had spoken to no one of her affections, but here, her love's own killer, saw right through her façade.

"I may have had feelings for him, but they were unreciprocated feelings. He used me, only because he knew I would do what he wanted because of those affections. The only filly he ever cared about was Flight Angel, and that was because he couldn't have her."

Blackbird's stifled a growing sob in his throat, and looked at the brown filly with streaming, painful eyes.

"I'm so sorry. Maybe thing's could have been different if I…if I just didn't-"

"-And then you would be dead one. There was no stopping him that day, you did the right thing. Please don't cry because of it, it's been good and done for a long while. No horse here judges you for it, I promise."

With a heavy heart, Blackbird circled the oak tree and laid himself down beneath its comforting boughs. Subconsciously the tears continued to stream along with his guilt down his long, velvet face.

"Thank you Star, but if you don't mind, I'd like a few moments alone before they bring me in. I just need some time."

The mare lowered her head in recognition of his request, and quietly walked off. Blackbird dipped his head into the dew-laden pasture, and closed his tender brown eyes. What had he gotten himself into?

A/N: Thought you'd like to know what was going on with Blackbird


End file.
